Trying To Catch Your Heart
by isabella2004
Summary: Emma Jane struggles to make a new life for herself back in New York, but can Hank really let her go? Sequel to 'Loyalty.' FINAL CHAPTER NOW UP!
1. Default Chapter

**Sequel to Loyalty - enjoy and please RnR!**

**All the usual disclaimers!**

**New York City**

**1868**

"Ma'am? Excuse me, Ma'am?" The gentleman leaned across towards her sleeping face and tried to rouse, "Ma'am, wake up." There was no response and he wondered what he should do. The little girl sitting in her lap was very much awake and grinning broadly at him, but her mother seemed oblivious. "Ma'am, we've reached New York," he tried explaining, as if by some miracle that would do the trick. But she slept on, her breathing slow and regular, her head pressed against her right fist.

When she had got on the train at Denver with her daughter, he had thought he quite pretty, yet much too pale. Her red hair had been stark against her white cheeks and her blue eyes had shone out from her small face. She had smiled at him as she sat down in the compartment and accepted his offer of help with putting her cases up on the luggage rack. He had asked her a few polite questions, such as where she was going, but he had received the distinct impression that she was not in the mood for engaging him in a meaningful discussion. So, he had read his paper while she watched the scenery fly past the window, only glancing occasionally from the financial pages to observe the same sad expression on her face. He was curious about her, but he had also noticed the gold wedding band on her finger and had refrained from making any further move.

"Ma'am," he tried again, this time shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes flew open and she seemed to jump back in her seat with fright. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to alarm you, it's just that we're at New York."

"Oh…" she said, still coming round from her nap, "Oh…thank you," she got to her feet, hoisting her daughter further up into her arms, "I must have dozed off."

"You've been asleep for at least an hour," he told her, smiling.

"It's lucky Victoria didn't start fussing," she replied, reaching up to get one of her cases, "I was wondering, would you mind…?"

"Of course not," he reached up and lifted down her cases, "I'll put them on the platform for you, and find you a porter."

"You don't have to…" she protested feebly, for she was actually quite glad of his assistance.

"It's no trouble," he replied, smiling at her as he led the way down the corridor to the train door. Once on the platform, he clicked his fingers, and a porter appeared with a trolley, "Well, I hope you have pleasant stay in the city."

"I'm sure I will," she replied, "thank you."

"You're more than welcome, Miss…?"

"Brown," she replied, "Emma Jane Brown."

He touched his hat, "Miss Brown." Then he disappeared back onto the train leaving her standing with the porter.

"Where are you headed, Miss?" the porter asked her, loading the cases onto his trolley.

Emma Jane paused. She wasn't sure where she was going, or what she was going to do. It had seemed like the simplest thing in the world to get on the stage at Colorado Springs and then get on the train at Denver and leave everything behind, but she hadn't made any future plans. She hadn't told Thomas she was coming, so there was no-one to meet her, and she knew she couldn't just turn up at her parents' house. But she could also tell that Victoria was tired and starting to get grouchy, and they would both have to eat soon.

"Would you happen to know of any boarding houses?" she asked him.

"Boarding houses?" he thought for a moment, "I know of one near here. It's not very grand though."

"It doesn't matter," she assured him hurriedly, "the cheaper the better." She didn't have much money with her and she had taken none from her husband.

"All right then, follow me and I'll get you a carriage," he told her, leading the way through the thronging crowds of people greeting one another. Couples, young and old, fell into each other's embraces, parents greeted children, but there was neither for Emma Jane.

When they reached the entrance to the station, the porter whistled and motioned for one of the horse-drawn carriages to pull up. He loaded the cases into the carriage for her and then helped her up into it, "Ma Kimble's on 33rd Street," he told both her and the driver, "Sure she'll have rooms."

"Thank you," Emma Jane reached into her purse and gave him a tip before the carriage pulled away. As they made their way down the street, she looked around at her home city, a place she hadn't been for two years since her sister's funeral. The buildings looked greyer, the sidewalks more bland than they ever seemed to have before. She was also aware of a faint smog hanging over the city, once which made visibility poor in the distance. She had never noticed it before, and she coughed involuntarily.

The carriage ride was short and soon, they were turning into one of the poorer areas of the city. She could tell by the rundown appearance of the buildings and the poorly dressed children playing in the filthy streets. For all that Colorado Springs had been, it had certainly been better than what she was looking at now.

"Here we are, Miss," the driver said, getting down and helping her out of the carriage. "I'll bring your cases for you." He turned to lift them as she made her way over to the door.

Nervously, she knocked on it and was rewarded by the incessant barking of a dog, and a rough voice telling it to shut up. The door opened to reveal a fat woman dressed in an apron. She regarded Emma Jane suspiciously.

"Yes?"

"Mrs Kimble?" Emma Jane asked.

"That's right."

"I understand…I mean I heard that you…you might have rooms available…for rent?"

Mrs Kimble nodded, "Johnny send you?"

"Johnny?"

"He's a porter at the station. He sends me lots of poor souls needing a place to lay their heads. Come in." She stepped back into a poorly lit corridor and allowed Emma Jane to enter. The carriage driver put her cases down inside the door and she turned to give him a tip after which, he was gone. "Almost full at the moment," Mrs Kimble continued, leading the way, "Lucky ya came when ya did."

Emma Jane wasn't sure if it really was luck after all. The place had a distinct smell about it. An odour of dog mixed with cooking vegetables, and she wasn't sure the house was entirely clean.

"This is the kitchen," Mrs Kimble announced when they reached a small room with a wood burning stove and a long table, "Ya get three meals a day. Breakfast is at six, lunch at twelve, dinner at six. Ya don't come for those times, ya miss out." She grinned at Emma Jane, "Can't have folks wandering in for food whenever they feel like it."

"No," Emma Jane replied, "I suppose you can't."

"Let me show you your room," Mrs Kimble led the way to a flight of stairs, "Lucy left here last week so ya can have her old place." She huffed as she slowly climbed the stairs, "Here we are," she took a key from her pocket and slotted it into a door which swung open to reveal a small room. "Home sweet home."

There was nothing sweet about it. There was a bed in one corner, a small table and chair in the other, with a dresser against the small dirty window where a cracked bowl sat, presumably for washing.

"Ya'll be needing a bed for the little one," Mrs Kimble observed, "Reckon one of the other rooms has got a spare one. I'll get it shifted in here for ya."

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied weakly.

"Rent's a dollar a week. And we've got rules here. No bringing home any menfolk," she looked at her severely, "And try and keep your baby quiet. There's other folks here who like their sleep of a night."

"Of course," Emma Jane replied.

"Good," Mrs Kimble grinned, "I'll need two weeks rent in advance." She held out her large, fleshy hand.

Two whole dollars! Emma Jane fished around in her purse and presented her landlady with the money, despondently realising that she didn't have much left.

"Thank you," Mrs Kimble said, "I'll get Peter to bring your things up for ya. You'll like Peter," she confided, "Very quiet and well behaved." With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her like the clanging of a prison cell.

Emma Jane sat down on the sagging bed and, placing Victoria next to her, put her head in her hands. There was no other word for this place apart from hellhole, one she knew she had used often in a fit of temper to describe the saloon. Thinking about it now, it seemed like paradise in her memory.

She got to her feet and walked over to the window to see what kind of view of New York she would have. As it turned out, it wasn't much of a view at all, being the side of another building. Looking down, she could see the street where she had entered and realised that she was at least looking out onto the front of the boarding house.

A knock at the door jolted her back to reality and she hurried to open it, to find a boy, not any older than sixteen, virtually sagging under the weight of her cases.

"Oh, let me help you!" she exclaimed, taking one from him and setting it down. He came into the room and set the other one down, "You must be Peter."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, "I'm Peter." Catching sight of Victoria, he moved over beside her and tickled her under the chin, "Lovely baby."

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied, surprised at his manners. Judging by his appearance, he didn't come from the wealthiest of families, "Do you live here?"

Peter nodded, "With my brother. We live down the hall there."

Emma Jane felt uncomfortable about sleeping so close to other males, but then reminded herself that she had spent the previous ten years living in what was effectively a brothel.

"I'd love to look after her sometime for ya," he said, turning to her expectantly, "I love babies."

"That's…very kind of you, Peter, thank you," Emma Jane replied, "I'll bear it in mind." She lifted her purse to tip him, but he held up his hands.

"No Ma'am, I don't want your money," he said.

"Oh…" she replied, "are you sure?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said, backing towards the door, "Ain't a charity case."

"I wasn't…" she protested.

"I know," he replied, "thanks anyway." With that, he was gone, leaving her standing looking at the open door.

Emma Jane turned back to where her daughter was watching her with large eyes, "Well Victoria. I suppose this is home."

SSSSS

That evening, having dressed in her best dress and fitted Victoria out equally as well, Emma Jane stood at the bottom of the steps of her parents house looking up at the imposing building. The last time she had left, having reached some kind of truce with her father and she couldn't help wonder about the reception she was going to get. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the steps slowly until she reached the door and knocked loudly.

Helen the maid opened the door and grinned at her, "Miss Emma Jane!" she gasped, her eyes falling on Victoria, "And this much be little Miss Victoria!" she said, stepping forward to greet them, "It's so wonderful to see you! Come in!"

"Nice to see you too, Helen," Emma Jane said, stepping inside, "Is now a good time?" The question should have read, 'is my mother here?' but Helen took the intended meaning.

"It's a perfect time!" she announced, "Mrs Brown is at the opera, but Mr Brown and Master Thomas are in the study. They asked not to be disturbed, but I think they'll want to see you!" She closed the door, "I'll get them." She dashed off in the direction of Mr Brown's study, leaving Emma Jane to look around the foyer and wander slowly into the drawing room.

The sound of running feet made her turn around and Thomas came hurtling at her, grinning like a maniac, his dark hair flopping over his eyes, "Emma Jane!" he cried gathering her and Victoria into his arms, "What a wonderful surprise!" He took Victoria from her, "And look how she's grown! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"

"Well, it was…"

"Emma Jane, child!" Mr Brown appeared and hugged his daughter, "It's so nice to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Father, I…"

"And this must be Victoria!" he gushed over his granddaughter, taking her from his son's arms, "She has your eyes, Emma Jane, if not your colouring."

"No, she definitely takes after Hank in that department," Thomas laughed, "How is he anyway? How's everyone doing in Colorado Springs?"

"Hank's fine, everyone's fine," she replied, "I just…"

"You should have told us you were coming!" Mr Brown said, "We would have prepared for you. You missed the most sumptuous meal this evening. Cook really did outdo herself. No matter," he said, "she can do it all again tomorrow night."

"What about Mother?" Emma Jane said quickly.

The frivolity in the room died and father and son exchanged glances, "I'll deal with your mother, don't worry," the former said, "So, sit down! Tell us all your news! Where are you staying?"

"In a boarding house on 33rd street. Mrs Kimble's the landlady, she's very nice," Emma Jane said quickly.

"33rd Street?" Thomas said, incredulously, "But that's the…well, the poor area of town. Whatever possessed you to stay there?"

"It's what I can afford, Thomas," Emma Jane said carefully.

"Don't be silly!" Mr Brown laughed, "You could have afforded one of the hotels, surely? Even one of the smaller ones. You could stay here, of course…"

"No," Emma Jane said quickly, "I mean, the boarding house is fine."

"But when you come to visit you really sure stay somewhere fitting," Thomas said, "Why don't you stay here? We can work on Mother."

Emma Jane shook her head, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…because I'm not here for a visit," she said, willing herself to keep her voice steady, "I'm…here to stay."

"What?" Mr Brown asked, "I don't understand."

Emma Jane looked up at him, her eyes full of unshed tears, "Please don't judge me, Father, and please don't say that you could have told me so at the time." She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, "I've left Hank."

Mr Brown got to his feet quickly. Thomas stared at her, "You've…left him?"

She nodded, "It's complicated, and I don't really want to go into the details now but, yes, I've left him. I didn't know where else to go, so I thought I would come back to New York with Victoria."

"Did he hurt you?" Mr Brown asked tersely.

"Of course not!" she retaliated sharply, although deep down the hurt was there, "I don't want you to think that, Father, please." She stood up and faced him, "It wasn't Hank's fault. It was mine."

"Yours?" Thomas asked, "I don't understand, Emma. When I came to visit you last year you seemed so happy!"

"We were," she replied softly, "but…things happen."

"What things?" Thomas demanded.

"Thomas, please!" Emma Jane rounded on him, "I came to see the two of you, not to face an inquisition about my life!"

"I'm sorry," Thomas said, glancing at his father, "We're sorry, aren't we?"

Mr Brown nodded, "But I'm not happy about you living in some…boarding house. What are you doing for money? I assume Hank gave you something before you left."

"No, I'm going to look after myself," she replied.

"How?"

She shrugged, "I'll…get a job."

"Emma Jane…" her father sighed.

"Father, I didn't come here to throw myself and my child on your mercy and beg you to take me back and look after me. That's not why I'm here," she said angrily, "I've made my choices in life and now I have to stick by them." She sighed, "Although I'm sure Mother would take great pleasure in learning of my misfortune, as would half of the city!"

"She won't find out," Mr Brown said, "We won't tell her that you're back."

"You would lie to her?" Emma Jane was incredulous.

He winked at her, "It won't be the first time." Then he grew serious again, "Are you sure about this, Emma Jane?"

She nodded, "I'm positive Father. I need to make my own life, for Victoria's sake."

"At least take some money to begin with," he reached into his pocket and brought out some bank notes, "Just to get you started," he said over her protestations, "And then I promise never to give you anything ever again."

Emma Jane took the money gratefully. He was right, in that she would need all the help she could get.

SSSS

A few hours later, after having a nice chat with her family and leaving the house before her mother returned from the opera in a carriage paid for by her father, Emma Jane arrived home once more at Mrs Kimble's. She opened the door to the boarding house and, carrying Victoria in her arms, made her way along the corridor towards the stairs to her room. Before she reached them however, raucous laughter spilled out from the kitchen and the door flew open to reveal Mrs Kimble and several others sat grouped around the table.

"Emma Jane Brown!" she called to her, upon seeing her newest charge, "Come in, come in!"

Emma Jane wanted to refuse, but she felt it would be impolite, so she put her best smile on and ventured inside. The kitchen was littered with empty bottles and it was obvious that most of the occupants were inebriated. Having lived in the saloon, and with Hank, this type of behaviour no longer appalled her.

"Good evening," she greeted everyone.

"This is Emma Jane," Mrs Kimble waved her arm, "She's our newest resident." She rhymed off the names of the people in the room, names Emma Jane knew she would never remember. "This is Kevin," Mrs Kimble said, gesturing to a tall, fair haired boy in the corner, "He's Peter's brother."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Emma Jane said, "Your brother is very nice, He helped me with my cases earlier."

"Yes, he is," Kevin replied quietly.

"Where have ya been anyway?" Mrs Kimble asked, "Anywhere nice?"

"No, just visiting family." Emma Jane replied. She was thankfully cut off from saying anymore by the sound of the door opening and closing and the sound of laughter spilling down the hallway.

"Carolyn!" Mrs Kimble screeched, "Get yourself in here young lady!" she laughed uproariously, "Where have ya been til this time of night?"

"You know me, Ma!" the voice cackled, "I never tell!" A young, dark-haired woman stumbled into the kitchen, laughing and dragging a man behind her, "It's the usual gathering I see…" her eyes rested on Emma Jane, "Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me?"

Emma Jane looked up and immediately, her blood ran cold, "Carolyn?"

"I don't believe it!" Carolyn crowed, "The wonderful Mrs Lawson is here! With a baby!" she looked at Victoria, "With that hair and those eyes I can only assume that Mrs Lawson got herself in trouble by that hunk of a husband of hers." She laughed, "And now she's living here?" she looked questioningly at Emma Jane, "My how the mighty have fallen."

Everyone looked at Emma Jane and she suddenly felt an urge to run away, "Excuse me," she pushed past the other people and past Carolyn and ran up the stairs to her room, Carolyn's laughter and cruel words following her every step. When she reached her room, she slammed the door shut behind her and locked in. Then, she put Victoria down into the cot which someone had helpfully provided before sitting down on the bed and crying. She lay down on her side and hugged the thin bedclothes to her, tears streaming down her face, her body racked with sobs.

"Hank…" she sobbed to herself, "Hank…"


	2. Chapter Two

**Well you asked for it! Here's Hank's thoughts at the crucial moment. I seem to have this thing for updating really quickly (as noted by Captain Tish!) I just get so involved in my stories that I feel the need to write the next chapter and the next and the next! At some point though, I am actually going to have to study for my exams! Until then however - as always - enjoy!**

**Colorado Springs**

At that moment, Emma Jane wasn't the only person calling Hank's name. It tripped off of Jessica's tongue as he moved inside her, the same way he had done every night since his wife had left for New York. At first, she had been nervous and taken aback, but now Jessica felt a sense of pride at being Hank's chosen one and went out of her way to please her employer. She revelled in the looks he gave her across the saloon, looks that indicated he wanted to take her to bed at every opportunity and the extent of his efforts and the way he touched her, indicated to her that he had really always wanted her all along.

Hank, on the other hand, never said anything to Jessica when these couplings occurred. He bit his lip and quashed any moans of pleasure she might have elicited from him, because he knew that if he were to give vent to his feelings and cry out, it wouldn't be Jessica's name he was calling. But then, after all, it wasn't really Jessica he was making love to; it was Emma Jane.

When he had finished, he rolled straight off of her, as he did every night, much to her disappointment. How she would love it if he would just stay with her, rest his head against her chest and let her soothe him. But he never did, and this night was no exception. As he stood up and gathered up his clothes, Jessica pushed herself up on her elbows and regarded him.

"Ya don't have to go," she said, hoping to entice him back into her bed, "Gits awful lonely in here."

Hank didn't reply. Instead, he made his way quickly to the door, opened it and left the room, closing it behind him. Then he went into his own bedroom and lay down on the bed, letting the sweat from his body permeate the sheets, allowing him to pretend that he had just exploded inside his wife.

He lay looking at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the faint crack that ran along it. He had never really noticed it until she had left, a result of the nights he had spent gazing at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The room seemed bare without her possessions dotted around, her clothes hanging in the wardrobe, her scent lingering in the air. It was as if the previous ten years had never happened.

He missed her, missed her with an ache like none he had ever experienced. When he was in the saloon, he kept expecting to see her out of the corner of his eye, coming down the stairs or talking to the customers. He missed the way she used to look up as she poured Jake yet another whiskey and smile at him across the room. He missed holding her in his arms and murmuring how much he loved her in her ear. He missed Victoria too, her cheeky smile and bright eyes. He missed his life.

"Hank?" he looked up to see Jessica standing in the doorway, her robe hanging loosely off of her, daringly exposing what she considered her best assets. She twirled the belt around in front of her and smiled at him, "Told ya ya didn't have to go."

"Go away," he told her.

"I could make ya happy, Hank," she said meaningfully, "Happier than Emma Jane ever could. I was one of yer favourites before she came here. I could be again," she looked longingly at him, "We'd be good together. A team, partners. I know we could make it work."

He looked back at her, stunned that she could even imagine herself taking Emma Jane's place in his heart, his home or even his bed, "Git out."

"I mean it, Hank," Jessica persisted."

He got up off the bed lightening fast, stormed over to the door and pushed her back into the hallway, "Told ya to git out," he said, "Ya couldn't hold a candle to her." With that, he slammed the door in her face.

But Jessica wasn't perturbed. She knew that Hank was missing Emma Jane, but given time, he would come around. And she knew that his harsh words wouldn't prevent him from visiting her again. With a small smile on her face, she headed back to her own room.

SSSS

The following day, the saloon was busy due to the stagecoach having rolled into town. Although he knew in his heart she wouldn't be on it, Hank had still stood at the door of the saloon as it arrived, scanning the people getting off it, just in case. Defeated, he had then gone back to the bar, preparing to spend yet another day without her. They had been apart before, when she had returned to New York for her sister's funeral, but he had known then that she would be coming back. This time, he didn't know if he would ever see her again.

Jessica wandered around the room, talking to the various customers, plying her trade to perfection. But she kept glancing in Hank's direction, wondering if her antics were making him jealous, hoping to see the look of barely controlled desire in his eyes. She was not rewarded this day. He had his head down as he served a customer and when he glanced up and caught her eye, he looked quickly away.

"No matter," she told herself, "There's still time."

Jake and Loren were sat at one of the corner tables, discussing all manner of banal and boring things which only interest men of a certain level of intellect. Despite it not even being lunchtime, Jake had drunk enough whiskey to loosen his tongue and give him the false courage to say things most wise men would have kept to themselves.

"You ask me, she was askin' fer it," he told Loren, "Way she strutted around in here, all lookin' but no touchin'."

"Aw now Jake," Loren said, uncomfortable, "You can't say that."

"Why not?" Jake demanded, looking at Loren, "Ya know what she was like. Thought she was better than anybody else in this town. Well…til Michaela came anyway. That guy just gave her what she was lookin' for."

"She was married to Hank," Loren reminded him, "You think he didn't give that to her?"

"Yeah well," Jake took another drink of whiskey, "All I'm sayin' is, was bout time someone showed her. Don't know how ya put up with her being your Abigail's friend all them years."

Loren winced at the mention of his daughter's name, "She and Abigail were very close. It was nice for her to have a friend."

"But what _kind _of friend?" Jake asked him, "The kind of woman who's obviously desperate fer it?" In his excitement at telling Loren exactly what he thought of Emma Jane, Jake was oblivious to the fact that Hank, having overheard every word, was now standing behind him, "Probably the best time she ever had."

"Git the hell out," Hank said quietly, fighting to keep his temper under control.

Jake turned around in his seat," Hank!" he waved his glass at his friend, "Was just sayin' to Loren…"

"I knows what ya were just sayin'," Hank replied, "And I told ya to get the hell out." Jake simply stared at him, "Git out of my saloon!" Hank grabbed him by the shirt and started hauling him towards the door.

"Hey!" Jake protested, "hey, Hank…"

Hank opened the saloon door and threw Jake out onto the street. The other man turned back to face him, swaying on his feet, "What ya gettin' so worked up for?" he demanded, "I was just telling Loren bout Emma Jane."

"Ya don't say nothin' bout her, ya hear me?" Hank replied dangerously.

"She's left ya!" Jake stated the obvious, "No need to protect her now…" he was cut off by Hank's fist colliding with his jaw, sending him sprawling backwards onto the road. He got back on his feet and lunged at Hank, but the other man, in his sobriety, grabbed Jake again and landed another stinging blow on his face.

By this time, a small crowd had gathered to watch the fight, including Michaela and Sully, the latter of whom was trying to decide whether or not he should wade in and break it up.

"Ya don't talk about her like that!" Hank yelled at Jake, pushing him backwards again, "Ya hear me?" Jake remained flat on his back looking at the sky, "All of ya!" Hank turned to the crowd, "Ya don't say nothin'!" With that, he turned and stormed back into the saloon.

Michaela hurried quickly to Jake's side, "Jake, are you all right?"

"I'm…fine," he replied drunkenly, as they attempted to help him up, "I'm…" his legs buckled again and he fell back down.

"Help me get him to the clinic," Michaela said to Sully who, aided by Robert E, lifted Jake off of the ground and carried him across the street. They put him down on the bed in the clinic and Michaela checked Jake's eyes. "Jake? Can you hear me?" He groaned in response, "He's not hurt, just drunk," she assessed, "I'll clean up his face and he should be fine."

"What about Hank?" Sully asked.

"Leave him," Michaela advised, "Something tells me he won't be in the mood for any help.

She was right. Hank stormed back into the saloon, slammed a glass and a bottle of whiskey down on the counter and poured himself one. Then another and another. Part of him wanted to get drunk like Jake, so drunk that he couldn't remember anything that had happened over the last few days. Couldn't remember that she had left him.

Jessica wandered over, "Ya all right?"

"Fine," he replied tersely, not wanting her company.

"Yer hand…" she reached for it but he snatched it away and regarded her angrily.

"Don't touch me," he said.

"I was only…"

"Well don't!" he retorted, "Yer just a whore, Jessica. Ya ain't never gonna be anything else." He jumped over the bar and turned to serve another customer, leaving her standing, her cheeks burning with humiliation and anger.

SSSS

As he was closing up for the night, Michaela appeared at the door of the saloon holding her medical bag. She watched him for a brief moment, before pushing open the door and walking inside.

"Closed," he told her briefly.

"I thought I'd come and take a look at your hand," she said, "You gave Jake quite a punch."

"He deserved it."

"Maybe, but I'd still like to take a look."

"I'm fine."

"Please?"

Hank sighed, put down the bar cloth he was holding and walked over to her. He held out his hand for her to see and she turned it over and pressed down gently on the bones. He winced.

"Does that hurt?"

"Bit."

"Well, I don't think you've broken anything. It's more likely to be just bruising. Rest it for a few days and don't punch anything else." She didn't expect a thank you and she wasn't disappointed. He turned back to what he had been doing. "You miss her, don't you?"

To Hank, it seemed like the most stupid of questions, but he answered truthfully, "Yeah, I do."

"I was surprised when she said she was leaving," Michaela ventured, "Especially when she said that things were…difficult…between the two of you."

Hank had no desire to get involved in a deep and meaningful conversation with Michaela about Emma Jane, but his curiosity was piqued, "She said that?"

Michaela nodded, "And she was upset about everything that had happened."

"Weren't all my fault," he replied defensively, "I never raped her."

"No, and she shouldn't have kept it a secret. But it didn't look as though you were supporting her the way you should have."

Hank laughed bitterly. Here it came, the accusations and recriminations. He wouldn't have minded if they had come from Emma Jane. He would welcome the sight of her standing in front of him, yelling about everything that he had failed to do as her husband. But to hear it from Michaela…

"So ya think ya know all about our marriage do ya, Michaela?" he looked at her, "Even though ya ain't never been married, or even lain with a man?"

Michaela fought down her indignation, "I don't need that experience to be able to tell when a man isn't treating a woman they way he ought to." She paused before asking her next question, "Did you hurt her?"

Hank turned sharply in her direction, "What d'you say?"

"I asked you if you hurt her? If that's why she ran away."

"Ya suggestin' I hit her?" He dared her to make the accusation, even though it was true.

"I didn't necessarily mean physically."

"What business is it of yers anyway?" he demanded, "What goes on between me and Emma Jane is our business, not nobody else's. Thank ya to keep yer nose out." He turned back to the bar.

"I would if I thought you were happy. If I thought that I wouldn't keep finding your friends in my clinic after you've lashed out at them because of how you feel." She went in for the kill, "You could have prevented all of this, Hank. You didn't have to let her go."

"Leave me alone," he replied.

"Why? So you can wallow in your own self-pity and make everyone around you miserable?"

Hank stepped toward her, "Ya think I'm so capable of strikin' my wife what makes ya think I won't strike _you_?"

"Because I know you regret everything that's happened, only you're too pig-headed to realise it. You know what you have to do to be happy again, but you won't take that road in case it shows you that you were wrong. You're a coward!"

"Ya know nothin'!" he yelled at her, "Now, get out!"

Michaela lifted her bag and stepped towards the door, "You seem to be saying a lot of that at the moment, Hank. Pretty soon, people are going to stop caring and you'll lose everyone that means anything to you." With that, she turned and pushed open the door.

Hank watched the space where she had been standing, shaking his head at just how arrogant and self-important Michaela seemed to think her opinion was and yet also knowing that she was right. He could fix this. He could get on the next stage to Denver, get the train to New York and get Emma Jane and Victoria back.

But something stopped him. What if she was happy, back among her own kind? No doubt she was spending her evenings going to the opera and parties, being reintroduced to all the eligible young men that she so despised ten years ago and yet would seem so appealing now after having been married to him. She would be greeted like a long-lost daughter, and Victoria would be raised like a child of the city, rather than the child of a brothel keeper in a backwater town. Maybe it was for the best that he simply let them be. And yet, he felt as though part of him was missing, as though part of him had been severed from his body and he was slowly draining away without it. Who would have imagined, when he tricked the poor, frightened girl into marrying him that day on the train ten years ago, that he would be so in love with, and so lost without her?

Hank locked the saloon doors and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He opened the door and looked at the empty bed. For a moment, he could imagine Emma Jane lying in it, her arms open wide, her smile mischievous, her body willing and able to satisfy and be satisfied. Then her image evaporated, like fine mist, and he was left looking at an empty bed in an empty room, one which offered no comfort.

Despite his sense of self-hatred and the knowledge that he was only betraying what he held so dear, he turned and opened the door to Jessica's room, where he knew he would find the comfort he craved.

She looked up from where she had been darning one of her dresses and smiled broadly. She had known he would come back. She held her arms open, in the very manner that he craved, and he fell into them, moulding his body against hers, his lips finding the soft crevice of her neck, his heat finding hers. And in that moment, he was with Emma Jane again.


	3. Chapter Three

**All the usual disclaimers!**

**New York City**

The morning dawned grey and dull, and the rain battering against her window woke Emma Jane from a troubled sleep. In her dreams she had seen Hank in the distance and had tried to run towards him, but her feet seemed to be stuck to the floor and although she called out to him, she couldn't appear to make a sound. Carolyn was also in the dream, her laughing face inches from Emma Jane's and then moving further and further away to join Hank. She awoke with a start and realised she was sweating.

"Oh for goodness sake," she chided herself, swinging her legs over the bed and standing up. Victoria was still sleeping peacefully in her cot and for a while, Emma Jane had no desire to wake her. She washed in the bowl provided and then selected one of her better dresses, a deep green colour which highlighted her fiery hair. She stood looking out of the window at the street below, her mind made up. She was going to get a job today, although she had absolutely no idea where. There were few things she was in any way qualified to do, serving behind a bar being one, but for some reason, she didn't feel as though that was what would be accepted.

She turned back to her daughter and roused her gently, "Wake up sleepyhead." Victoria protested loudly at being woken and wailed.

"No, no, no!" she protested, this being her favourite word at the moment, "No Mama, no!"

"Come on sweetheart," Emma Jane took her over to the bowl and gave her a good wash, "You're going to help Mama find a job today, aren't you?" When she had finished washing her, Emma Jane dressed Victoria in a pretty pink dress and then carried her downstairs to the kitchen. As she peered through the door, she was thankful to see that Carolyn was nowhere in sight.

"Mornin' Emma Jane," Mrs Kimble greeted her heartily, "Sleep well?"

"Yes thank you," she lied, sitting down at the table. Mrs Kimble passed her a plate containing a slice of bread and some strange looking meat substance and a small helping for Victoria.

"Hope we didn't make too much noise last night," Mrs Kimble continued, "But we do like a good time in this place."

"No, not at all."

Mrs Kimble greeted a few other people who came into the kitchen and sat down at the table before she turned back to Emma Jane, "So," she said, "how do ya know our Carolyn then?"

"She…we used to live in the same town."

"I see," Mrs Kimble's eyes shone with the desire for gossip, "Where was that then?"

"Colorado Springs."

"Back west?" Emma Jane nodded, "What kind of place is it?"

"Very nice," Emma Jane replied, forcing down the meat, and turning to help Victoria with hers, "Small, but nice."

"Carolyn don't talk much about there."

"Well, she left a number of years ago and I haven't seen her until now," Emma Jane closed her mouth, fearing she may go too far.

"Hmmm…" Mrs Kimble regarded her steadily, "So, what are your plans for today then?"

Thankful for the change of subject, Emma Jane forced a smile on her face, "I'm going to try and find a job."

"Really? What kind of job?"

"I'm not sure. Anything that pays well, I suppose."

"Doubt you'll have much luck round here. Lot of folks without a job. What can ya do?"

Emma Jane didn't want to reveal that all she could do was pour whiskey, so she played dumb, "Not much. I'm hoping someone might give me a chance though."

"Ya should try the market," Mrs Kimble said, "Might find someone there willin' to give ya a try."

"Thank you," Emma Jane stood up, "I will. And, thank you for breakfast." If you could call it that.

"No worries, darlin', no worries," Mrs Kimble replied, "Have a nice day now."

Emma Jane lifted Victoria into her arms and made her way towards the door of the boarding house. Just as she reached it, it opened and Carolyn stepped in, her wet hair plastered to her head, her cheeks red with the chill of the morning air. The two women eyed each other for a long moment and Emma Jane waited for the stinging remark, but it never came. Carolyn lowered her eyes and pushed past her towards the kitchen, where Emma Jane heard her being greeted by Mrs Kimble.

She pushed the door open and stepped outside. Instantly the rain battered against her and, having no umbrella to shield her, she instantly felt herself getting soaked. Still, she ploughed gamely onwards up the side-street and out onto the main road. In the distance, she could hear the sound of market traders hawking their wares, their voices rising out of the damp, grey morning. Putting her head down, and holding Victoria close to her, she walked in the direction of the voices, until she began to make out various market stalls and the people working them.

She wandered along, glancing at the stalls and the wares they sold, wondering if there was anything she might be good at. Some of them, for example the stalls selling whole, dead pigs, made her want to vomit back up her breakfast, but the others, the ones selling clothes or jewellery, looked a better bet. How hard could it really be?

"Excuse me?" she approached a thickset lady selling what looked like cheap dresses.

"You looking for a dress, my love?" she asked in a voice that was distinctively English.

"Oh, no, I'm not," Emma Jane replied, "I was wondering…well, whether you were looking for anyone to help you. On your stall, I mean," she added, seeing the look of confusion on the other woman's face.

"Help on the stall?"

"Yes. I'm…I'm looking for a job and I thought…" Emma Jane was cut off by the raucous laughter of the woman, "I'm sorry…what's so amusing?"

"You are, my love," the woman replied, "Thinking that I can afford to take on staff!" She laughed again, "Can barely cover me own costs."

"Oh…I see," Emma Jane replied, "Well, would you happen to know of anyone who may need some help? I really am in need of work." She hoisted Victoria further up into her arms.

"She's lovely," the woman said, tickling Victoria's cheek, "but I'm sorry love. Ain't nobody round here got enough pennies to pay anybody else. We're all struggling to make ends meet as it is. Times are hard and business isn't that good."

"I understand," Emma Jane smiled wanly, "Thank you anyway." She turned to leave when the woman called her back.

"How desperate are you?" she asked.

"Well…quite."

"Why don't you pop into the Black Bull? It's on the corner of the next street. Sure Danny might have something for you. If you don't mind going into a public house that is?" The woman looked her up and down.

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied, wondering what the woman would have said if she had told her she had lived the last ten years in a saloon. Turning, she made her way through the market towards the corner of the street where the Black Bull loomed before her. It was clearly a British establishment, the flag of St George flying above the door. It didn't look anything like the saloon. A large building built of brick with a heavy door and proper windows. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, immediately assaulted with the smell of tobacco and whiskey, familiar scents that made her ache for home.

The customers stopped and looked at her, in pretty much the same way they had back in Colorado Springs in the beginning. Emma Jane hurried forward to the bar where a young woman, her dress falling off one of her shoulders was holding a tankard of beer.

"Excuse me," Emma Jane said quietly, "I'm looking for someone called Danny?"

"I'm Danny," an English voice said behind her. She turned to see a man, most likely in his early forties, looking back at her. "What can I do for you?"

"One of the women on the market said that you might be looking for staff," Emma Jane replied.

"Staff?" he looked her up and down, "I think you must be in the wrong place darling."

"I have experience," she told her, "I worked in a saloon back west for ten years."

"Did you now?" he said, his eyes falling on Victoria," She yours?"

"Yes."

He glanced at the woman behind the bar, "As it goes, I am short of barmaids. I'm willing to give you a go."

"About my daughter…"

"No children allowed."

"I understand that, but I have no-one else to look after her," Emma Jane said, "I thought perhaps, if you had rooms upstairs, I might be able to bring her with me. I could check on her during the day." She searched his face, "Please. I really do need a job."

Danny nodded, "A'right, you can bring her with you. But I don't want her causing any trouble, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Emma Jane said with relief, "When can I start?"

"Come back tomorrow. I'll get you acquainted with everyone, how's that?"

"That's great, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, she made her way back through the crowds in the bar and back out into the fresh air. She turned to look back at the building behind her. It wasn't ideal, but it would do.

SSSS

"You're working where?" Thomas demanded that afternoon, "Emma Jane, you can't be serious!"

"I am serious!" she replied, wrapping her cold hands around a cup of Cook's hot tea, "I need a job, Thomas. I've got rent to pay."

"But…in the Black Bull of all places!"

"I lived in the saloon for ten years," she reminded him.

"That was different."

"How?"

"Well…Hank was there and…you were married to him and…it was just different." He stood up and looked at her, "What's Father going to say about all this?"

"We won't tell him," Emma Jane said, "Tell him I got a job in a dress shop or something."

"Couldn't you have done that? Couldn't you have tried one of the dress shops instead of a local bar?"

"To be honest, I don't know anything about selling dresses. The only thing I know how to do properly is pour whiskey." She sighed at his exclamation of frustration, "I'm not saying I'll do it forever, but it's something to give me some money to start with."

He sat down opposite her, "I don't like it."

"Neither do I, but it's a job. Besides, Hank always said I was good with the customers."

Thomas regarded her for a moment, "Why won't you tell me what really happened between you and Hank?" She looked away, "I know something did."

"I've told you, we just…had our differences."

"And that made you up sticks and come all the way back to New York? I don't believe it."

"Believe what you like, Thomas, it's the truth."

"You loved that man, Emma Jane. I saw it in your eyes on more than one occasion. And he loved you. I don't believe for one minute he was happy to let you just leave."

"It wasn't up to him!" she shot back, "It was my decision!"

"But why?"

"I can't tell you," she said, "it's private."

"Emma Jane…" he touched her shoulder gently, "I'm your brother, your only brother. And you're my only sister. We've always been so close, able to tell each other everything. Why can't you tell me this?"

"Please don't press me," she begged him, "some things are just better left between a husband and a wife. Anyway…" she latched onto another subject, "why haven't you got a young lady friend yet?" He blushed, "You're older than me, Thomas. Isn't it about time you found someone to help you carry on the Brown name?"

He grinned ruefully, "I suppose."

"Well?"

"There's a few young ladies I'm interested in."

"A few?"

"Well, one in particular. Her father is an important customer at the bank. Does a lot of business with Father."

"What's her name?"

"Clara."

"Clara who?"

"Now who's being nosy?" he joked, "Clara Bowman."

"Not Georgina Bowman's daughter?"

"The very same."

"Oh Thomas!" Emma Jane remembered clearly how rude the woman had been to her at Lydia's funeral, "You can't really be thinking of marrying into that family, can you?"

"Clara's not like her mother," Thomas insisted, "She's sweet and kind and gentle." His eyes took on a faraway look, "And she's beautiful."

"So, are you courting her?"

"We've been to the opera a few times," he revealed.

Emma Jane grinned, "Does she make you happy?"

"Yes, I suppose she does."

"Then I'm happy for you. Even if she is related to that…old hag." They both laughed as the door to the kitchen opened and Mr Brown entered.

"Emma Jane," he greeted her warmly, "Won't you join us for dinner? Your mother has gone out – again."

"Oh, no thank you Father," she replied, standing up, "I really want to get to the post office before it closes. I've got a letter to send to Hank."

"I'll walk you," Thomas offered.

"No, there's no need, really," she assured him, "It's not far and then I can head back to the boarding house in time for dinner." She lifted Victoria up into her arms, "Perhaps I'll call again towards the end of the week. With that, she bid them good bye and left through the back kitchen door. As she emerged from the alleyway into the main street, she was stunned to hear a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well, Mrs Lawson." It was Carolyn, "Visiting our family were we?"

Emma Jane turned to her, "Have you been following me?"

"You could say that. All the way to the Black Bull and back again." She walked towards her, "You got yourself a job in there?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," Emma Jane lifted her chin.

"I see," Carolyn replied. When she reached Emma Jane, her smile dropped and she leaned in close, "Word of advice. You don't want to work in there. Things go on."

"It can't be any worse than the saloon, can it?"

Carolyn paused, "I pity you. I really do." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Emma Jane standing, confused and a little concerned.

Trying to put Carolyn out of her head, however, she hurried along to the post office to send her letter before it closed. It had taken her ages to write it, to find the right words, and then, in the end, it had only been a few simple lines which conveyed nowhere near what she really felt.

When she arrived back at the boarding house, she was just in time for dinner, a mixture of meat and some kind of vegetable which she couldn't identify. After forcing down as much as she could, she retired to her room with Victoria and picked up one of the books she had brought with her. After only reading a few pages, however, she was distracted by a noise from the street below.

Crossing to the window, Emma Jane was surprised to see Carolyn involved in an argument with a man. She was struggling against him and screaming, while the man yelled back at her. In two minds as to whether or not she should do something, Emma Jane watched as the door below her opened and Mrs Kimble ran out, followed by Peter and his brother Kevin. At the sight of the mob, the man released Carolyn and bolted back up the street, Kevin in hot pursuit. Carolyn was crying, and Mrs Kimble pulled her into her arms before helping her back indoors.

Emma Jane moved back to her bed from the window and sat back down. This really was the strangest of places. It was New York, but not as she knew it.

****

**Colorado Springs**

Hank opened the letter that Horace had handed him, his hand shaking slightly, for he saw it was written in Emma Jane's handwriting. He opened the pages and read the few words.

XXX

Dear Hank,

We have arrived safely in New York. Victoria and I are both well and adapting to our new surroundings. Father and Thomas have been most welcoming, although I have yet to see Mother. I am staying at the boarding house of a Mrs Kimble. The address is over the page. It is basic, but at least it is a roof over our heads, and I hope to get a job soon to help with the rent. I hope you are well and do send my regards to all in town.

Yours,

Emma Jane.

XXX

He stared at the page for a long time after reading it, his eyes trailing over the words, yet not taking anything in. In the bar, the customers were loud and noisy, enjoying their beer and the company of the girls. Putting the letter into his pocket, he pushed open the door and headed back inside, pouring himself a whiskey. To hear that she was safe gave him some comfort at least, but he couldn't bear to think of her working where he couldn't watch over her, couldn't make sure she stayed safe.

"But you didn't keep her safe, did you?" his inner voice said loudly, "You let her get hurt. It's your fault this all happened."

"Hey Hank!" Jake called from a nearby table, "Ya want in on this game?"

Hank swallowed against the lump in his throat and lit a cigarette. "Sure," he said, walking over and drawing up a chair, "Why not?"


	4. Chapter Four

**I know everyone wants Hank to go after Emma Jane (Captain Tish!) but all I can say is hang in there!**

**New York City**

**Eight weeks later**

It had been two months since Emma Jane had started her job in the Black Bull and over that time she had begun to realise exactly just what Carolyn had meant about it not being a good place. At first, she had thought it was fairly similar to the saloon, men came to drink and smoke and partake of the in-house entertainment. But after a while, she realised that Danny was no Hank. Yes, he took the money and set the customers up with the girls, but he didn't protect them. More than once a girl had been manhandled by a customer to the point where she was actually physically injured and yet Danny did nothing. Emma Jane knew that Hank could be rough sometimes, but he always looked out for his girls.

The customers were different too. Here in New York, it was impossible to get to know the men who came into the bar, for none of them were regular customers. In Colorado Springs, she had known everyone, but here, everyone was a stranger. She also no longer had the added protection of being the owner's wife, the unspoken understanding that she was not to be touched by any customer. Many had tried it with her in the Black Bull and she had always resisted.

"You know," Danny had said thoughtfully to her one day, "If you want to make some more money you could always…"

"No thank you," Emma Jane replied, "I'm fine doing what I'm doing."

"Fair enough," he had shrugged, but he had given her a lascivious look, "But I bet you'd get plenty takers."

She had shivered at his words. She wasn't desperate enough to begin selling her body for profit. One man had already used and abused her and she was damned if she was going to allow another to try it too.

Victoria seemed quite content in the room above the bar which Danny had said she could use, at a little cost, mind. Emma Jane hurried up to check on her as often as she could and many of the girls found her cute and adorable and loved playing with her. In a sense, it was like being back at home with Jessica and the others.

At the end of another long day, she collected Victoria and made her way to the door to go home. Outside, the air was distinctly chilly, indicating that winter was on its way, and she wrapped Victoria up in her shawl to shield her. As she was about to head for the boarding house, Carolyn appeared out of nowhere. The two women eyeballed each other for a long moment.

"You're still here then," Carolyn said.

"Yes," Emma Jane replied, "It's not the nicest of places, but it'll do."

"Has Danny got to you yet?"

"In what sense?"

"Has he asked you to whore?" she spoke bluntly.

"Not that it's any of your business," Emma Jane replied, "but yes he has, and I refused."

"Oh you did, did you? It won't last," Carolyn responded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emma Jane glared at her, "but some of us have a little more pride in ourselves than to sell our bodies." She pushed past Carolyn.

"You think I chose this life?" Carolyn called after her. "You think this is how I imagined myself when I was growing up in Boston?"

"Boston?" Emma Jane turned in surprise, "You're from Boston?"

Carolyn nodded, "I'm from a good family too. I was raised the same way you were, Emma Jane. Taken to parties and the opera, wined and dined, educated with a governess. I had all that, same as you."

"So why…?"

"Why did I end up a whore?" Carolyn asked bitterly, "Things happen, as you well know. You never imagined yourself living in a saloon with Hank, did you? Well, I never imagined being a whore either."

"But it was your choice, surely?"

"You don't get a choice," Carolyn replied, "Not when you're like me. I got forced into it by someone who told me he loved me. I was naïve once, just like you were when you met Hank on that train. Only you're lucky he took a shine to you for himself, not just for his business."

"Are you saying that Hank…?"

"No," Carolyn waved her hand, "No he came later. There was someone else first." She stepped closer to Emma Jane, "Just don't fall into the same trap I did, especially not with Danny. He's mean, Emma Jane. He doesn't care about you, or any of the girls who work there. He doesn't care about me, anyway. Not any more."

"I'm…sorry," Emma Jane replied.

"Yeah," Carolyn said softly, "so am I." With that, she disappeared inside the bar, leaving Emma Jane standing alone and confused.

SSSS

When she got back to the boarding house, she barely made it into her room before she vomited violently into the chamber pot. She crouched for a moment on the floor, her head hanging over the bowel while the nausea washed over her and she purged the contents of her stomach. It had been the same most days for the past few weeks, and at first, she had thought it might have something to do with Mrs Kimble's cooking, which wasn't exactly a far-fetched notion. But inside, a nagging feeling that it was something else haunted her every waking moment, a feeling that she had worked hard to push to the back of her mind, one she was afraid to give voice to.

"Come on, Vicky," she coaxed her daughter gently, "time for bed." She undressed Victoria and put her into her nightgown before placing her down in her bed and reading her a made-up story about fairies and princes before her eyes drooped and she fell asleep. Emma Jane stood watching her for a moment, her chest rising rhythmically with each breath. Then, she turned and took off her own clothes, stretching her tired body and putting on her flannel nightshirt. As she looked at herself in the mirror while she brushed her hair, she remembered Hank's reaction to such a covering garment.

"Ain't gonna wear that are ya?" he had demanded.

"What's wrong with it?" she had argued back.

"Can't see ya in it," he had explained.

She remembered smiling and acquiescing and removing it for him, his hands trailing up her naked body, over her breasts, into her hair, pulling her down on the bed beside him, pressing his body against her, teasing her with his lips and his tongue until she was begging for an end…a crash outside her door brought her sharply out of her memories and Victoria began to scream as she woke in fright.

"It's all right, darling, it's all right," Emma Jane picked her up and soothed her gently, "It's all right." She opened the door to her room and peered out to see what was happening. To her surprise, Carolyn was lying in a heap at the top of the stairs, Peter and Kevin standing over her. "What's going on?" she asked.

They looked over at, "Carolyn's bin at the sauce," Peter grinned.

"It ain't funny," Kevin clipped him round the ear.

"Is she all right?" Emma Jane asked.

"Nothin' her bed won't cure," Kevin reached down and tried to lift her, "Give's a hand," he indicated to his brother.

"Peter," Emma Jane stepped in, "Watch Vicky for me, will you? I'll help your brother." She passed her daughter to Peter and, disregarding the fact she was dressed in her nightclothes, she stepped forward to help Kevin lift Carolyn and drag her to her room. She groaned as they lifted her, the unmistakable groan of the drunk.

"Come on, Carolyn," Kevin huffed.

"Did you just find her on the stairs?" Emma Jane asked.

He shook his head, "Met her at the door, but she fell over before she made it all the way." He kicked open the door to Carolyn's room and the two of them, somehow managed to deposit her on the bed. She rolled over onto her back and threw one arm over her face. "Just needs to sleep it off."

Emma Jane peered in closer to Carolyn and squinted at her neck, "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Kevin asked.

"That," she pointed to a red lesion on the left side of Carolyn's neck, "See, there?"

"Oh yeah," Kevin said, "What is it?"

"I don't know," Emma Jane replied.

"Probably a love bite," he prodded her jokingly.

"Very amusing," she replied, "come on, let's let her sleep." They both left the room and walked back along to Emma Jane's room where Peter was sitting holding Victoria, "Thanks Peter," Emma Jane said, taking her daughter from him.

"No problem," he replied cheerfully, leaving her alone.

As she put Victoria back into her bed and rocked her to sleep again, Emma Jane thought of the mark she had seen on Carolyn. It didn't look like any love-bite she had ever seen, and in ten years, Hank had given her plenty. Rather, it looked much more sinister.

SSSS

The following morning, it was Emma Jane's day off from the Black Bull and she had arranged with Thomas to go and see her nieces, Sarah and Lucy. She had only seen them once since her return to the city and then only for a few moments. From what Thomas had told her, they were being raised mainly by their governess, Miss Steele, and their nanny, Mary. Their father, Arthur, still seemed to be badly affected by his wife's death and no matter what he did to try and coax him, Thomas said there was no shifting the dark cloud of despair that hung over the household.

After washing and dressing and grabbing a quick breakfast, at which Carolyn was not present, Emma Jane and Victoria set out to go to the Brown house. She would have preferred to take one of the taxi-carriages, but she had just paid Mrs Kimble that week's rent and Danny hadn't yet paid her. The air was crisp again, but there was no wind and the walk through the streets was pleasant. She wandered through the market, passed the Black Bull and then turned into the more affluent area of the city where her childhood home stood.

"Good morning, Helen," she greeted the maid when the door opened.

"Morning Miss Emma Jane, Miss Victoria," Helen curtsied slightly, but she looked anxious.

"What's wrong?" Emma Jane asked, coming inside, "Is everything all right?"

"It's Mrs Brown, Miss. She's in a terrible temper this morning. Apparently, someone told her that…well…that you were working in the Black Bull." She said the last two words quietly, but Emma Jane groaned.

"Wonderful. Who told her that?"

Helen shrugged, "Wish I knew, Miss. I'd get them for you."

Emma Jane sighed. In the two months since she had come back, she had managed to avoid her mother completely. Mrs Brown was aware of her daughter's presence in the city, but she had shown no inclination to see or speak to her only remaining girl, and Emma Jane had only ever called around to the house when she knew her mother would not be present. At that moment, Mrs Brown came storming out of her husband's study.

"Well, well," she greeted Emma Jane coldly, "I see you've finally dared to show your face at my door when you knew I would be at home."

"I only came by to collect Thomas," Emma Jane replied, "We're going to see Sarah and Lucy."

"Ha, so you can corrupt them no doubt with your whoring ways," Mrs Brown spat.

"I'm not going to rise to your bait, Mother," Emma Jane said, moving past her into the drawing room and sitting down to wait for her brother.

"Fanny Grayson told me that you're working in some…public house in that dilapidated area of town," Mrs Brown followed her in.

"And how would Fanny Grayson know?" Emma Jane shot back.

"I have no idea, and that is not the point. I can't believe that your father and Thomas knew about this!"

"I kept it from Father as long as I could," Emma Jane replied, "eventually, I had to tell him. He wasn't best pleased either, but at least he doesn't treat me as if I'm laying down with all the men who frequent the bar."

"You might as well be," Mrs Brown said, before turning and storming out of the room, bumping into her son in the process.

"Sorry," Thomas said, coming in and sitting beside her, "She's been like this all morning, ever since Fanny told her before breakfast."

"How did Fanny know?" Emma Jane asked him, "I haven't seen _her _in the Black Bull."

"Apparently, her butler goes there occasionally and she overheard him telling her cook about how he'd seen you working," Thomas rolled his eyes, "Don't say anything." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, "So, are you two ready to go?"

Victoria laughed and Emma Jane smiled, "Yes we are. I'm looking forward to seeing the girls again."

They took their father's carriage over to Arthur's house on the other side of the city and were greeted rapturously at the door by both Sarah and Lucy. The latter, at the age of nine, was still slightly shy around her aunt, but six year old Sarah threw herself at Emma Jane, who had to quickly pass Victoria to Thomas so she could hug her niece.

"You are getting so big!" she gushed, holding Sarah up, "How are you?"

"Fine," Sarah replied, her face a mirror image of her mother, "How are you?"

"All the better for seeing the two of you," Emma Jane put her down and hugged Lucy, "Do you remember Victoria?"

"She's bigger," Lucy observed.

"Yes she is."

"Is Arthur here?" Thomas asked the maid.

"No sir, he's not," she replied, "but Cook's made a picnic for you all to take to the park."

"Isn't it a bit cold?" Emma Jane enquired, but her protests were drowned out by Sarah and Lucy shrieking that they wanted to go regardless.

So, they all piled into the carriage and headed for Central Park. It _was _cold, but no-one seemed to mind as they sat on a blanket on the grass and tucked into Cook's turkey sandwiches, ginger cake and fizzy ale. They talked and laughed and played silly games until the sky began to grow darker.

"I have to work tonight," Emma Jane reminded Thomas. He looked at her disapprovingly, "I know, but it's only for a few hours. Danny said there was a big poker game on this evening."

"All right," he sighed, "come on, let's go."

The girls were disappointed at being returned home, and they made both Thomas and Emma Jane promise they would come back again soon. As they carriage moved in the direction of the boarding house, Emma Jane put her head back and looked up at the sky.

"A dime for your thoughts," Thomas said.

"They're worth more than that," she joked, "I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

"About being back here. It's not what I expected."

Thomas wanted to ask her again about why she had left Hank, but he held his tongue. Why spoil an otherwise good day? As they pulled up outside Mrs Kimble's, he kissed her on the cheek, "Take care. I'll see you soon?"

"I promise," Emma Jane said, as the driver helped her down. She took Victoria inside to get a quick bite to eat before heading to the Black Bull and as she hurried up to her room to get changed, she found Carolyn sitting against the door, crying. "Carolyn?" she asked gently, "Are you all right?"

Carolyn shook her head, "No."

Mindful of the fact that she was going to be late, Emma Jane unlocked the door and invited her in, "Is there anything I can do?"

Carolyn laughed bitterly, "Cure me?"

Emma Jane looked at her, "Cure you? From what?"

Carolyn pulled down the top of her dress to reveal more lesions similar to the one Emma Jane had noticed on her neck, "Don't you know what it is?" Emma Jane shook her head, "Syphilis."

Emma Jane was stunned, "Syphilis?" Even in the ten years she had been at the saloon, not once had a girl been struck down by the killer disease. "Are you sure?"

"I've been to a doctor," Carolyn said proudly, "he told me…" her voice broke again, "I don't have long."

"I'm…so sorry," Emma Jane said, and she genuinely was. Despite not having ever seen eye to eye with Carolyn, no-one deserved such a horrible death, "What are you going to do?"

Carolyn shrugged, "I told Danny, and he doesn't want to know. He promised he'd look after me and…" she sniffed, "now he says I'm dirty and he doesn't want me." She put her head in her hands, "I've got nothing and nobody."

"What about your family?"

"They disowned me years ago," Carolyn replied, "Do you really think they'd welcome me back now, with this?" She snorted derisively, "they probably already think I'm dead."

"Did you catch it from…?"

"A customer? Yes. I knew he was offering me too much money. Should never have taken it. Should have known it was too good to be true," she wiped her eyes, "Well, I won't be servicing any other men, not when they see these."

"I wish I could help you," Emma Jane said, "but I don't know how."

Carolyn looked at her wide-eyed, "You could forgive me. I know I wasn't very nice to you when you arrived in Colorado Springs. I made things difficult for you because…well, because you reminded me of what I used to be like. You were right to throw me out when I destroyed the dresses Abigail gave you." She lowered her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Emma Jane said, "It was a long time ago."

"So, you forgive me?"

"Of course I do."

"And you'll be my friend?" her eyes looked hopeful.

"Yes, Carolyn," Emma Jane said, "I'll be your friend."

SSSS

She ran into the Black Bull ten minutes late and Danny immediately caught her by the arm, "You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry. There was a slight…crisis." She didn't want to tell him it was to do with Carolyn, "but I'm here now." She shot him her brightest smile, "Just let me take Victoria upstairs and I'll be right back." He let her go and she run upstairs and put Victoria down in the room. She was practically asleep anyway, and a few moments later, Emma Jane was back behind the bar.

Danny hadn't been lying when he said it would be busy that night. The bar was packed with customers. Some playing poker, some waiting to play poker, others just there for a quiet drink and a roll with the girls. The smoke was even stronger than usual and she coughed to try and clear her lungs. At the far table, she could see a man with a large scar running down the side of his face playing poker and she found herself watching him as he dealt the cards.

"That's Bill," one of the other barmaids told her when she saw her watching, "Some big shot poker player."

"From New York?"

"Lord no. From Texas," the girl said, "'parently, he's got the best poker game in the country. Nobody's ever beat him. Quite a thing Danny gettin' him here."

Danny was hovering around the room watching everything that was going on. Occasionally, his eyes flicked over to Emma Jane and she always pretended that she was doing something. Sometimes, his gaze could be unnerving.

It was almost the end of her shift, and closing time, when it happened. Thinking about it afterwards, Emma Jane recalled that the world seemed to go into slow motion, as if everything was happening at half the speed it should. Bill had just won another hand of poker, much to the chagrin of one of his opponents. The man in question, leapt to his feet and grabbed his gun from its holster. Right away, another man leapt to his feet and smashed a chair over the first man's head. This then led to a complete riot, with men flying at each other, furniture crashing through the air and onto the floor and girls cowering.

Behind the bar, Emma Jane thought she was safe, ducking occasionally as a glass came her way, but when she caught sight of one of the girls about to be crushed by two men, she dashed over to help her, only to be landed a stinging blow by one man to the side of her head, which sent her flying to the ground. Dazed, she lay there for a moment while chaos reigned above her, before she tried to pull herself to the stairs. As she did so, a glass smashed against her shoulder and she felt a shard pierce her dress and her skin. Then, someone grabbed her around the waist and threw her over onto her back. He loomed above her, blocking out the light from the lamps, and she was automatically transported back to that night in the stable.

"No," she whispered urgently to herself, "Please, not again."

Just as he was about to come crashing down on top of her, Danny grabbed him from behind and threw him away. This gave her time to scramble to her feet and make for the stairs. She ran up them as fast as she could to Victoria's room, grabbed her daughter from the bed and hid in the corner of the room until it had passed.

Half an hour later, after the police had been alerted and the troublemakers disbanded, Emma Jane ventured back down the stairs. Her head and her body was aching and the cut to her shoulder had oozed blood which had run down her arm and out of her sleeve. The bar was in disarray and Danny was standing in the middle of it, surveying the damage.

"Danny?" she queried, her voice shaking slightly.

He turned to face her, "Best get to a doctor, Emma Jane. Get that eye looked at." He then turned away again and starting trying to clear up some of the mess. Around her, the other girls slowly emerged and silently began to help him, but Emma Jane had had enough. She picked her way over the debris to the door and let herself out into the cold night air.

She started to walk, although she wasn't sure where she was going until she ended up at her parents' house.

"Good Lord!" her father exclaimed when he opened the door in his dressing gown, "Emma Jane, what happened?"

"There was a…a fight," she told him, "at the bar, I…I got hit…"

"What's going on?" Thomas asked, joining them, "Oh my God, Emma…"

"Thomas, get Dr O'Neil, will you?" Mr Brown directed his son, "I think it best that Emma Jane gets checked over." He steered her to a seat and took Victoria from her, "Are you pain?"

"No, I'm…" she wasn't quite sure how she felt. But she handed Victoria to Helen and then sat back in the chair. For a moment, she felt fine and then a wave of nausea hit her, "Father…"

"Quick Helen!" he shouted and Helen immediately thrust a convenient bowl under Emma Jane's head which she vomited into.

"I think we should get you to bed," Mr Brown said.

"What about Mother?"

"Hang your mother," he replied viciously, "if she can't even be bothered to get out of bed to see what all the commotion is about…" he took her arm, "Come on darling. Your room is waiting for you." He guided her up the stairs into her old bedroom and helped her into bed, "Just lie quietly until the doctor arrives."

"Vicky…"

"She's with Helen," he reassured her, "Just try and relax." He left her then and Emma Jane lay back on the bed, feeling as though the room was spinning around her. Her head was splitting and she still felt sick.

Not long after, Doctor O'Neil, an older man in his sixties came into her bedroom, "Good gracious me, Emma Jane," he greeted her, "What have you been up to?" He didn't expect a reply and she merely smiled wanly at him, so he set about gently pressing the area around her swollen eye and, after asking her to pull her dress down, stitched her cut shoulder. "You should be as good as new in a few days," he told her, "Just try and take things easy."

"Doctor…" she said, "I wanted to ask you…I mean, I think I…"

"Yes?"

"I think I may be expecting. Would you mind…?"

"I see," he said, "Of course, I'll check for you." He set about examining her, pressing down on her stomach and listening with his stethoscope, "When did you last have your monthly?"

"I can't remember," she replied honestly.

"Well," he took his earpieces out and looked at her, "You're quite right in your assumption. You _are _indeed expecting. Congratulations. I'm sure you're husband will be delighted."

At that, Emma Jane burst into tears, startling the doctor so that he hurried down to get her brother to come and comfort her. As Thomas held her and asked her what was wrong, she hiccoughed and sobbed, "I'm having a baby!"

"What?" he looked at her in disbelief, "Emma Jane, that's…that's wonderful!" he hugged her again, "Wait until you tell Hank. He'll be here in no time!"

Emma Jane clung to him and continued to cry, knowing that she couldn't tell Hank, for the simple reason that she didn't know if the father of her baby was her husband, or her attacker.


	5. Chapter Five

**All the usual disclaimers!**

"How are you feeling?" Mr Brown asked Emma Jane as she came down for dinner the following evening. Having spent most of the day in bed, Thomas had coaxed her to come down and join them, primarily because he wanted to introduce her to Clara Bowman. Victoria was happily napping in one of the spare rooms.

She had agreed, on the proviso that he was not to tell her parents about the fact she was pregnant. Lying in bed, her hand resting on her stomach, she had thought about it all day, about how unfair it all was. She and Hank had tried for eight years before Victoria had come along, and when there had been no other children since, Emma Jane had resigned herself to the fact that her daughter would most likely be an only one. Hank hadn't seemed to mind, and she had promised herself that she would lavish all the love and attention in the world on her child. Now, to be expecting again, having lain with two men separated only by a few hours…the thought made her feel sick.

She hoped it was Hank, hoped and prayed fervently that it was his. That it was a child born out of love, not out of a violent act over which she had had no control. But she also knew there was no way to tell, no way in the world to be able to find out whether it was Hank's child or not. When Thomas had pointed out that Hank would come to New York in an instance if he knew his wife was pregnant, Emma Jane hadn't agreed. He wasn't a stupid man, and would most likely be able to work out for himself that there was some doubt over the child's parentage. He would be more likely to break off all contact and never think about her ever again.

But it was lies that had got her into this mess in the first place. If she hadn't lied about what had happened to her, she would most likely still be in Colorado Springs, still with Hank, and somehow everything would be better. She couldn't tell an outright lie, but it was unlikely that at any time in the near future Hank would happen to ask her if she was expecting. Perhaps if she just…didn't say anything, it would be all right?

"I'm fine," Emma Jane replied, coming into the drawing room, "I'm feeling much better."

"Emma Jane," Thomas stood up, "this is Clara Bowman." He introduced the young woman at his side, "Clara, my sister Emma Jane."

"Pleased to meet you," Emma Jane extended her hand.

"And you," Clara replied, "Your poor face!" she grimaced in sympathy, "Thomas told me what happened. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied, not asking what Clara _really _thought about her spending her days working in a bar.

"Yes, well," Mrs Brown harrumphed in the corner, "Perhaps now Emma Jane has decided to grace us with her presence, we can sit down to dinner. Clara my dear," she linked her arm through their guest's, "You must tell me all about your trip to Europe next year…" then the two of them disappeared into the dining room.

"Chin up Ems," Thomas teased her lightly, taking her arm, "Clara thinks you're very brave to have done what you did. And don't mind Mother."

"I know," she replied, allowing her brother to lead her into the dining room. She sat at the table on a side by herself, facing Thomas and Clara, with her mother and father at either end. The space beside her seemed to gape ominously.

"Well, we sail in June," Clara was saying as the first course was served, "We should arrive in Southampton in a week I believe. Mother has friends in London who are very kindly planning on letting us stay with them for a while."

"And then?" Mrs Brown asked.

"Then we plan to tour England and spend some time in Scotland before heading to Paris," Clara's eyes gleamed, "I can't wait to see all the fashions over there. It's going to be a wonderful trip."

"Sounds lovely," Mr Brown agreed, "Don't you think, Emma Jane?"

"Sorry?" she looked up quickly from her soup, "Yes, yes it does."

Mrs Brown cast her daughter a look of annoyance, "And might we have some good news upon your return?" she looked meaningfully at her son.

"Mother…" Thomas protested, blushing.

"I'll be back in time for the summer ball at the Hyatt's," Clara said quickly to cover the moment, "I do hope you'll be attending, Emma Jane."

"Oh I very much doubt that," Mrs Brown spoke up before Emma Jane had a chance to reply, "Emma Jane does so love to go against what is expected. No doubt she will have some other plan up her sleeve for then. Dancing at some bordello I shouldn't wonder."

"Mother!" Thomas's tone was sharp.

"Amanda…"Mr Brown replied warningly.

"What?" Mrs Brown looked up innocently, "It's true, isn't it. Is that not your plan, Emma Jane?"

Emma Jane wanted to say that no it wasn't, seeing as she would be most likely nursing a newborn and clearly not up for dancing anywhere. Instead however, she merely looked coolly at her mother, "You overestimate me, Mother. I was actually planning a rather quiet summer for Victoria and myself."

"I see," Mrs Brown put her spoon down deliberately, "Well, we shall await your plans with great anticipation." Helen arrived to clear away the dishes and shot a sympathetic smile in Emma Jane's direction.

The rest of the meal progressed in equally the same way. Mrs Brown made every effort to show her daughter up and create the impression that Clara Bowman was more of a woman than Emma Jane Brown could ever be. Emma Jane sat as silently as possible, only adding to the conversation when it was safe to do so. After the meal was over, the party retired to the drawing room, but Emma Jane made her excuses and hurried back upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it briefly, trying to catch her breath from the exertion of having a meal with her mother. She was amazed she had managed to get through it without throwing her plate of soup all over the old busybody, something which Hank would have soundly encouraged. Thinking of him again, she put her hand back on her stomach and thought about her child growing inside. Her mother would have a field day when she discovered Emma Jane was expecting again. Alone in the city, without a husband, and now pregnant! The gossips would revel in the news.

She looked around her bedroom, which had changed very little from the day ten years ago when she had slipped out and run away. The curtains were the same, the sheets and covers on the bed, the furniture and ornaments that adorned the place. Even her teddy bear was still the same. But when she looked at them, she felt no fondness, so sense of loss. That's when she knew that she had made the right decision all along.

She hurried along to the room where Victoria was sleeping and gently lifted her out of the bed. Then she lifted her coat and made her way back downstairs where she could hear the laughter of the family.

She paused in the doorway of the drawing room, "Father?"

Mr Brown looked up, "Emma Jane?" he stood up and came over to her, "Are you leaving?"

She nodded, "I should be getting back to the boarding house. I'm sure when I didn't return last night, the others would be worried about me."

"Huh!" she heard her mother say, "From what I've heard, it's nothing more than a barn. You wouldn't keep animals in it."

"That's quite enough, Amanda," Mr Brown rebuked his wife, "If you want to go back, Emma Jane, you can. But you're more than welcome to stay here."

"Thank you Father, but no. I feel I've already far outstayed my welcome." She glanced at her mother who looked away, "It was nice to meet you, Clara," she said.

"And you," Clara replied, "I do hope we meet again soon."

"Take the carriage," her father said.

"Thank you, I will," Emma Jane kissed her quickly, "Good night Father. Good night Thomas." With that, she turned and left by the front door, pausing only to wait for the carriage to come around to the front. Then, she climbed in and sat back as it carried her away from the laughter and togetherness of a family brought closer by the prospect of marriage, back to the boarding house, where there was the prospect of nothing.

SSSS

"How are you?" Emma Jane asked, sticking her head around the door of Carolyn's room. The other girl was lying in bed, having collapsed at dinner, or so a rather shaken Mrs Kimble had told her.

"Not so good," Carolyn attempted a weak laugh, "This disease is going to be the death of me, you know."

Emma Jane came all the way inside and moved closer to the bed, "Mrs Kimble told me what happened. She said you just…keeled over."

"Yeah," Carolyn replied, "I guess it's something I'm going to have to get used to." She squinted at Emma Jane, "What happened to your face?"

Emma Jane smiled wryly, "Let's just say you were right about the Black Bull."

"Oh no, what happened?"

" A game of poker got out of hand, chairs and tables went flying all over the room, and someone thought I needed a good smack on the head," she sat down in the chair beside the bed, "It's fine, though. I'm going to be all right. Once the bruise is gone…"

"But you're out of a job."

"I suppose I am," Emma Jane sighed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't quite know."

"You'll find something."

"I wish I shared your confidence," Emma Jane smiled.

Carolyn smiled back, "Something's got to keep me going." She shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

"Can I get you anything?" Emma Jane asked.

"No. I can't keep anything down, not even Ma's cooking." They looked at each other and laughed, both knowing it wasn't exactly gourmet, "Did you stay with your parents last night?"

"Yes, I ended up there for some reason. Not that I was made very welcome, by my mother at any rate."

"You should try and make up with her," Carolyn said seriously.

"I wish I could," Emma Jane replied, "but she won't ever entertain the fact that I made my own decisions and I'm happy with them. She's obsessed by the fact that I let her down in society. My brother has a girl, and I'm convinced Mother's going to substitute her for me given time."

"You really must make up with her, Emma Jane, while you still have the chance," Carolyn's voice was quiet, "I wish I had that chance."

"Couldn't you…I don't know…write to your parents in Boston? I'm sure if they knew what was happening to you, they would want to see you."

"Do you think your mother would if this were happening to you?"

Emma Jane paused, "I don't know. I'd like to think that if I was…dying…she would want to make peace with me, but…"

"You're lucky that you have her so close. Don't stop trying," Carolyn urged her, "Your daughter deserves a grandmother too."

"She wasn't thrilled at me having one, goodness only knows what she'll say about my having another."

Carolyn's eyes widened, "You're pregnant?" Emma Jane nodded, "Well, well. You kept that one quiet."

"I only found out last night, but I had suspected for a few weeks," she replied truthfully. "I'm not sure how I feel about it to be honest."

"Well, it'll bring you and Hank back together, won't it?"

Emma Jane sighed, "If only it was that simple." Then she found herself telling Carolyn the whole story, a woman she had hated so much for so long. She told her it all, from the attack, to Martha, to the trial, to Hank discovering the truth, to Jessica, to her departure. When she finished, she was shocked to realise she'd been talking for nearly an hour.

"I'm sorry," Carolyn replied, "It must have been a terrible time for you. But I reckon that Hank's reaction just serves to show how much he loves you."

"How? By spending the night with Jessica?" Emma Jane echoed in disbelief.

"You forget I knew Hank for a good few years before you did," Carolyn reminded her, "He's not very good at showing his feelings. He reacts with anger and violence because he doesn't know how else to react. I reckon you've changed him a bit over the last few years, but when you were hurt, the person he loves the most, he couldn't deal with it."

"You're right," Emma Jane admitted, "I made things worse by keeping it a secret from him. I should have been honest from the start." She smiled, "You're not the only one who's told me this, you know. Our lady doctor said the same."

"Lady doctor?"

Emma Jane nodded, "Doctor Michaela Quinn from Boston. She's been in town for…oh…must be almost nine months by now. It's caused quite a stir…what? Do you know her?"

Carolyn nodded, "Or rather, I know her father. He's a friend of my father. They used to meet regularly."

"Well, he passed away apparently. That's why she went to Colorado Springs. She's nice," Emma Jane added, "if a little sure that she's always right."

"Well, us Boston girls are known to be the smartest," Carolyn joked, "If I'd been there, we would both have ganged up on you and forced you to tell."

Emma Jane smiled, "I imagine you would." She stood up, "I'll let you get some rest. Peter must be thinking I've run off and left him with Victoria. I'll come by and see you later."

"Thank you," Carolyn said, closing her eyes sleepily, "and Emma Jane?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I said."

Emma Jane nodded and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

SSSS

"Clara's had the most marvellous idea!" Thomas exclaimed when the three of them met for afternoon tea a few days later in a nice part of the city, "Tell her darling, go on!"

Clara turned to Emma Jane, her face shining with the idea, "Well, I was talking to Mrs Bentley, she's the woman who makes my dresses for me, and she was saying about how she's finding it difficult to keep up with all her customers now that she's getting older. So I said, maybe she should think about taking on an assistant, and she said she would, only she hadn't a clue who to ask, and then it came to me!" She sat back triumphantly.

"What did?" Emma Jane asked.

"You!" Clara exclaimed.

"Me?"

"Of course! You can sew, can't you? Thomas tells me you make all your clothes for yourself and Victoria. You'd be absolutely perfect for the job! So I told Mrs Bentley all about you and she asked if you would go to her house this evening to meet her so she could discuss it with you!"

"I…" Emma Jane was stunned, "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Clara said happily, "This is going to work out perfectly, I can feel it." She squeezed Thomas's hand.

"I've never made clothes for other people though," Emma Jane said, "only for myself and Victoria as you said. I'm not sure that I would be good enough to do it professionally."

"Nonsense," Thomas said, "Mrs Bentley's a lovely woman. No doubt she'll teach you all the tricks of her trade and have you up to speed in no time."

"And, she's got some _very _prestigious clients," Clara chipped in.

"Most of the prestigious people in this city seem to know who I am and don't think very much of my lifestyle," Emma Jane said, "I doubt they would want me making their clothes."

"Come on Emma," Thomas teased, "You know it would tickle them pink to actually be able to boss you around and have you skivvy for them." Clara frowned at him, "What? I'm only joking."

"Don't be so mean," Clara said, "I think it's a great idea. Why, if I wasn't going to London, I would have the pair of you make my wedding dress!"

"Hold on a minute!" Emma Jane held up her hands, "Wedding dress?"

"Well, it's not quite official yet," Clara admitted, "but it's quite obvious, don't you think?" She gazed lovingly at Thomas, "I can't wait to be part of the Brown family."

"Well, feel free to take my recently vacated place," Emma Jane remarked.

"Emma Jane, that's not fair," Thomas said, "you are still part of our family. Mother's just being Mother, you know that."

"Yes Thomas I do. But…someone said something to me that made a great deal of sense. What if something were to happen to me, or Mother, and we had never made our peace? Look what happened with Lydia and I?" She sighed, "I've tried and tried and I don't know what else I can do to get Mother to at least speak to me without resorting to cheap remarks about my life. I don't regret marrying Hank, I don't regret living in Colorado Springs and I _certainly _don't regret having my daughter!"

"Or your expectant one?" Clara asked coyly.

Emma Jane looked quickly at Thomas, "I'm sorry!" he said, "It just slipped out."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone else, especially not Mother," Emma Jane begged them, "at least not until I've worked out what I'm going to do."

"Won't your husband want to come to the city to be with you?" Clara asked.

"That, Clara," Emma Jane replied, "is the eternal question."

SSSS

At seven-thirty exactly that evening, Emma Jane rang the doorbell of a smart house not far from her parents and stood waiting at the door. Clara had told her Mrs Bentley was a stickler for punctuality, so she had left the boarding house excessively early and spent the previous half hour wandering the streets to kill time.

The door opened and a plump faced woman appeared, "Yes?"

"Mrs Bentley? I'm Emma Jane Brown? Clara Bowman…"

"Oh yes, yes, come in, come in," the woman stepped back, "Mind the cat, will you?" Emma Jane stepped over a large tabby lying across the doorway, "Do come through." She led Emma Jane into what she supposed was a drawing room, but was filled with rolls of material and dresses on every surface, "Excuse the mess, but I have to finish a dress before Sunday for Mrs Hyatt."

"Hyatt?" Emma Jane echoed. She was sure she had heard that name before.

"Yes, you know the Hyatt's surely, my dear? They host the summer ball every year."

"Oh yes, of course."

"Mrs Hyatt's a lovely woman," Mrs Bentley said, "so personable. So," she looked over Emma Jane critically, "What sort of experience do you have?"

"Well…none really," Emma Jane replied, "I mean, not professionally. But I make most of my own clothes and clothes for my daughter."

"Really? You're Amanda Brown's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes," Emma Jane sighed, "yes I am."

"It wasn't a criticism, dear," Mrs Bentley assured her, "I was just checking I had the right woman. It isn't every day you find a woman from the upper classes who knows how to sew."

"Well, I have spent the past ten years living in a saloon," Emma Jane said boldly.

"Really?" Mrs Bentley didn't look in the slightest perturbed, "then you have seen the world, haven't you? All I'm interested in, dear, is your ability to make a dress."

"Like I said, I've never done it professionally, but I'm willing to try."

"Might be best if you don't accompany me out to houses for another few days, just until that eye's gone down."

Emma Jane touched her face self-consciously, but decided to offer no explanation, "That's fine with me."

"Splendid!" Mrs Bentley clapped her hands, "Well, you can start tomorrow then. It's a busy time of year and there's plenty you can do."

"There's…just one other thing," Emma Jane ventured.

"What's that, dear?"

"Well, I'm…" she fought for the right words, "I'm expecting a baby."

"I see. When?"

"Sometime in the summer," she replied. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no, not at the beginning," Mrs Bentley replied, "Towards your time, of course, things may be different."

"I understand."

"Well then. I shall see you tomorrow Miss Brown. Or would you rather be referred to by your married name?"

Emma Jane paused, "I _am _married, Mrs Bentley, I have a child and am with child again. It might only be fitting…"

"That's quite all right, my dear. Although, I'm sure you won't mind me calling you Emma Jane, will you?"

"No," Emma Jane replied, "I don't mind at all."

SSSS

On her way back to the boarding house, Emma Jane felt something in her pocket and pulling it out, realised it was the letter she had written to Hank the previous evening and had forgotten to mail. She gazed down at the address on the envelope, running her fingers lightly over his name. She had started to write it many times, unsure as to how to phrase it. "I'm expecting a child?" "I've discovered I'm pregnant?" "I'm having _your _child?" "I don't _know _if I'm having your child?" She had found it so hard to pick the right words.

Finally, she made a decision. She told him about Thomas and Clara, about how she had met Carolyn again and how she hopefully had a new job making dresses. But she omitted any reference to the life growing inside her. It wasn't the right time. Soon, but not just yet.


	6. Chapter Six

**Christmas Eve 1868**

**Three months later**

"Mrs Hyatt, you really must keep still!" Emma Jane declared in exasperation, "If you want to be able to wear this dress on New Years Eve you have to let me be able to finish it!" She paused and looked up, "You look wonderful."

"So I should, all the hours you've put in," Mrs Hyatt replied good-naturedly, "Who would have thought that Emma Jane Brown would be so good at dressmaking?"

"Who would have thought Isabella DeSanchez would have married one of the richest men in New York City?" Emma Jane replied laughingly, getting to her feet. The two women grinned at each other, both remembering the morning when Mrs Bentley had brought Emma Jane to the Hyatt house to do some fittings only to discover that the two women already knew each other from a train journey over ten years earlier.

"I can't complain," Isabella replied, "Max is very generous."

"With his money, yes, I can see that," Emma Jane joked, fixing another pin at her friend's waist. "He must be, the number of clothes he allows you to buy."

"He doesn't 'allow' me, he indulges me," Isabella replied, "It's my thank you for having given him two sons."

"Well, if that's all I had to do…"

"Oh don't be so silly!" Isabella flapped her hands, "Besides, I think you're carrying a boy."

"That's what Mrs Kimble said."

"Well, she's right. It's the _way _you're carrying. Your baby's high up, that definitely means a boy. I carried high with Richard and Paul." She touched Emma Jane's growing stomach gently, "How much longer to go?"

"Three months, as well you know," Emma Jane chided her gently, "You've only been keeping track of my every expanding inch." She touched her stomach herself, "This baby likes to kick, though. Much more than Victoria ever did." She tried to push this thought from her mind. The more different her pregnancy was from when she was expecting Victoria, the more she worried the baby wasn't Hank's.

Isabella changed the subject quickly, knowing how little her friend liked to discuss her failed marriage, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Emma Jane made a face, "Well, I was looking forward to spending a quiet Christmas Day with my family, with only my mother to keep at bay, but I've been foiled in that. Mother's only gone and invited the Bowmans for Christmas dinner."

"Well, that's nice isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. Georgina Bowman can't stand the sight of me. She's made that clear often enough. I'm not sure I can handle a whole day of two of them remarking on my downfall."

"It's nice for Thomas and Clara though, isn't it?" Isabella said, "When are they planning on getting married?"

"Shortly after your summer ball, I believe," Emma Jane replied, "The Bowmans are spending the beginning of the summer in Europe, so from what Thomas has told me, it'll most likely be a late August, early September wedding."

"Beautiful. Are you to be a bridesmaid?"

"No, thankfully." Emma Jane looked critically at the dress, "it's going to need taken in a little more at the waist, Isabella."

"I'm glad you said that. Better than saying it needs taken out!" Isabella laughed, "I hate to be a burden, but can you have it finished before next week?"

"Of course I can," Emma Jane laughed, "It's my job to keep my clients happy."

After sitting with her friend and having a cup of hot chocolate made by Isabella's fabulous cook, Emma Jane left the Hyatt house and made her way back along the streets towards home. It was a long walk, seeing as her friend lived in one of _the _most affluent areas of the city, but she didn't mind. There was a light covering on snow on the sidewalk and choirs on virtually every street corner singing carols in anticipation of tomorrow.

She was tired by the time she arrived back at the boarding house, her feet sore from the walk and her back aching from the weight of her baby. Already at only five months, he was a big baby, and she dreaded to think how she would look come her delivery time.

"Hello Emma Jane," Mrs Kimble greeted her, her usual heartiness somewhat diminished.

"Mrs Kimble," Emma Jane replied, "Is everything all right?"

"No," she replied, tears forming in her eyes, "No, love, it's not."

"What is it?"

"It's Carolyn. She's on her way."

Emma Jane closed her eyes, partly in despair, partly in relief. Over the last three months, Carolyn's condition had worsened rapidly. The doctor had told her it was a miracle she had hung on so long. "I'll go and see her."

"Take this up to her, will ya?" Mrs Kimble handed her a bowl of steaming hot soup, "see if ya can git her to eat anythin'."

Emma Jane took the bowl from her and carried it carefully upstairs. Peter was looking after Victoria, so she made her way down the corridor to Carolyn's room and gently pushed the door open. Carolyn was lying in darkness, her breathing shallow.

"Emma?" she croaked weakly.

"It's me," Emma Jane replied, "I brought you some soup." She moved over to Carolyn's bed and put the bowl down beside her. "Can I draw the curtains back a little?" Carolyn nodded and Emma Jane pulled the thin material back to let the last slivers of daylight in. They emphasises Carolyn's face, covered with sores, pale and drawn, her eyes huge. "There, that's better." She sat down next to the bed and dipped the spoon into the soup, "Can you manage a little?"

Carolyn pulled herself up in the bed a fraction of an inch and opened her mouth as wide as she could. Emma Jane poured the contents of the soup into her mouth.

"Nice," Carolyn said, "For…once."

Emma Jane laughed, "I know what you mean." She continued to feed Carolyn until the other woman could take no more. She sank back down in the bed, exhausted.

"How's…your baby?"

"Kicking," Emma Jane replied, "Mrs Hyatt thinks I'm having a boy."

"I…think so…too. It's the way you're…"

"Carrying, yes I know. So everyone keeps telling me." Emma Jane smiled at her, "Don't you worry about us. Just think about yourself."

"What…will you call…him?" Carolyn asked.

"I'm not sure," Emma Jane replied, "How about…Winston?"

Carolyn laughed raggedly, "I hope…that you're…joking."

"I am."

"Maybe…Hank Junior?"

Emma Jane's smile slipped slightly, "Maybe."

"You…must tell him."

"I know."

"I'm…serious. You must…tell him about…his son." Carolyn looked at her sternly, "He has…a right to…know."

"But what if he's not the father?" Emma Jane gave voice to her fear.

"Doesn't matter. He…loves you…anyway."

"It _does _matter."

"Don't be…so goddamn…stubborn," Carolyn said, "Look…where it's got…me." She coughed, "Emma Jane?"

"Yes?"

"In my dresser…at the back…there's a…a letter."

"Do you want me to get it?" Emma Jane stood up, but Carolyn shook her head.

"No…it's…it's for my parents. I want…you to…to send it to them…once I'm…gone. I wrote it…tried to…explain." She took a deep ragged breath, "I've…addressed it…all you have to do…is send it. Will you send it?" She looked at Emma Jane.

Tears pricked at Emma Jane's eyes, "Yes, Carolyn. I'll send it."

Carolyn seemed to visibly relax, "What…time is it?"

Emma Jane checked her watch, "Nine o'clock."

"Merry…Christmas."

"You've got a few hours to go yet."

"No…" Carolyn replied, "I don't."

Emma Jane didn't reply. She sat by Carolyn's bedside, barely moving, watching as her friend's breathing grew more and more shallow and ragged. Carolyn reached out her hand and Emma Jane took it in hers. Then, as if sighing in relief, Carolyn took one final breath and slipped away.

SSSS

"Ya should go to bed," Mrs Kimble advised her.

"I'm not sure I could sleep," Emma Jane replied, "Not after all this." She sat at the kitchen table staring down in the mug of hot tea, the third she had drunk since Carolyn had died. When she had realised her friend had gone, Emma Jane had called on Kevin to fetch Mrs Kimble, who had in turn asked Kevin to fetch the doctor. When he arrived, a thin-faced, sour looking man, he had confirmed that she was dead and asked about family.

"She's got none," Mrs Kimble said.

"Well…" the doctor had said, "has she got any money?"

"No," Emma Jane had replied.

"Then, it's a poor house burial."

"Absolutely not!" Emma Jane had declared angrily, "She comes from a good Boston family! You can't bury her like she was a…a…"

"If nobody can pay for anything better, then that's what she's going to get," the doctor had replied.

"I'll pay for it," Emma Jane had said, "If you can get in touch with…whoever deals with it, I'll pay for it." The doctor had looked at her as if she were crazy, but he had gone away and contacted the right people who had turned up not long after and put Carolyn's body into a coffin.

"She'll have to lie til after Christmas," one of the men had said, perturbed at being called out on Christmas Eve."

"I understand that, thank you," Emma Jane had replied, "can she be buried the day after?"

"Have to talk to the preacher about that."

"I'll be at church tomorrow no doubt," Emma Jane had told Mrs Kimble, "I'll speak to the minister then."

Mrs Kimble had nodded and the two of them had then sat in silence, contemplating everything that had happened.

"She was like a daughter to me," Mrs Kimble said.

"I know," Emma Jane replied, running a hand over her tired eyes. It was now almost two o'clock on Christmas morning.

"Ya really should be in bed," Mrs Kimble insisted, "Ain't good fer ya in yer condition."

Emma Jane smiled ruefully, "Maybe you're right." She got to her feet, but a sudden dizziness came flooding over her and she sank back down into the chair.

"Are you all right?" Mrs Kimble demanded.

"I'm…fine," she replied, "I'm just tired."

"You've gone awful pale. Kevin!" She shouted, "Run and fetch the doctor, will ya?"

"I don't need a doctor," Emma Jane protested feebly.

"Yer in a delicate condition," Mrs Kimble insisted, "Don't fuss!"

Emma Jane didn't have the strength to fight back, so she allowed Mrs Kimble to make her some more tea and waited until the doctor came. Unfortunately, it was the same doctor as before.

"Oh I see," he said, "Something the matter with you now is there?" He sighed, "Let's have a look." He checked her pulse, pressed down on her stomach, and looked into her eyes. "Probably just over-exhaustion. Do you work Mrs…?"

"Lawson, yes I do. I'm a dressmaker."

"I see. Long hours?"

"Of course."

"In your condition, that's not right. You should be at home, resting, preparing yourself for the birth. Not gallivanting around."

"I'm not…" Emma Jane tried to get to her feet, but dizziness claimed her once again and she sat back down.

"Off to bed with you," the doctor said.

"I'm not an invalid."

"Mrs Lawson, the welfare of your child is most important. Now, I can assure you that if you do not take things easy, you will find yourself in grave danger come the birth." He looked at her reproachfully, "Mrs Kimble, this young lady should be in bed."

Mrs Kimble ushered her upstairs back to her room and forced her to get into bed, "Now, you just sleep. Victoria's fine, everything's fine. Just sleep."

Emma Jane couldn't protest and soon, she was fast asleep.

SSSS

When she finally woke up, her body felt tired and heavy, but when she checked her watch and saw that it was after ten o'clock, she got to her feet as quickly as she could and pulled on a deep green dress that she had bought especially for Christmas. It had needed to be altered to accommodate her growing stomach, but she had to admit that she thought she looked nice in it.

As she finished dressing Victoria, her eye caught sight of the letter Hank had sent her. It hadn't said much, wished her and Victoria a Happy Christmas and included money. Her heart ached as she read his words, knowing that she should tell him everything, yet always finding a way of pushing it to the back of her mind.

"I'm going to be dreadfully late, Mrs Kimble!" she shouted as she dashed for the door. Outside, the world was covered in snow and she ran as fast as she could up onto the main street and tried to flag down a carriage. They all seemed to be occupied however, and as the time drew nearer to eleven o'clock and the start of the Christmas Day service, she began to panic. Finally, she managed to get one and told the driver to go as quickly as possible. This was easier said than done, however, with the number of other carriages on the streets, and she reached her parents' house as they were coming down the steps to get into their own carriage.

"We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it," her father said, hugging her gently, "Emma Jane, you look ghastly."

"I'm fine, Father, just tired. Your grandchild is keeping me awake."

"Which one?" He smiled at her and chucked Victoria's chin."Well, in you get." He helped her in beside her mother who merely eyed her distastefully.

"Merry Christmas Emma," Thomas said, climbing in opposite her, "How are you?"

"Fine, Thomas, Merry Christmas to you too." She kissed him on the cheek as the carriage set off towards the church.

As usual, the great and the good had gathered to worship on this fine Christmas morn, and Mr and Mrs Brown were stopped by many people to exchange salutations and chat. Thomas too, was also in demand. All of New York were aware of the upcoming nuptials, and most felt it a very good match. Only Emma Jane was left on the periphery of such an occasion. People talked about her, gestured to her, and no doubt commented on her impending motherhood. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if Hank were here, holding her hand, pulling her next to him, whispering that he loved her. The only thing she had to hold on to was Victoria, a reminder of the love she had once shared with Hank.

She sat through the service not really listening to what the minister was saying. The Christmas message washed over her as she thought of the mess of the last year, and of Carolyn…As the congregation were filing out at the end, shaking the minister's hand, she remembered she had to ask him about a funeral.

"Miss Brown," he greeted her warmly, "how are you?"

"Fine thank you, Reverend," she replied, "I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment."

"Of course."

"I have a friend who passed away last night after a long illness," she explained, "she has no family and I've offered to pay for her burial. I was hoping you might be able to conduct the service."

"I would be honoured, of course," he replied, "When were you thinking of?"

"As soon as possible."

He nodded, "I'll come and visit you tomorrow and we can discuss things, how would that be?"

"Thank you," she gave him the address and then hurried to catch up with the rest of her family.

"What were you talking about with Reverend Maxwell?" Mr Brown asked.

"Spiritual guidance I hope," Mrs Brown sniffed.

"You're quite right, Mother," Emma Jane replied, "spiritual guidance."

**Colorado Springs**

"Hank? Ya comin'?" Jessica leaned against the door to the bar, "Everythin's ready."

Hank looked up from his glass of whiskey and nodded. She remained where she was, however, until he growled, "I'm comin' ok?" Her smile fading slightly, Jessica disappeared back into the kitchen leaving him alone again.

He emptied his glass, poured another and pulled out the letter from his pocket. Emma Jane had sent him a jacket for Christmas, one that she had bought in a real store 'because I know you won't buy one.' She had also included a scarf that she had knitted. He had turned it over and over in his hands and then held it up in case it contained any scent of her.

This Christmas was hell on earth without her and Victoria. He had felt it as the dreaded day approached, as the town began to celebrate and get into the festive spirit. He had wanted to die instead. Pulling himself to his feet he made his way into the kitchen where the girls were putting the finishing touches to the dinner. Jessica was sat at the opposite end of the table, in what had once been Emma Jane's seat.

"Here he is," she said merrily, "C'mon, Hank. It's all ready."

They sat down and began to eat, the girls chatting amongst themselves. Hank could barely eat anything, his heart firmly in his throat. Jessica watched him from her seat.

"Ain't ya hungry?" she asked.

He just looked at her, her head cocked to one side, her eyes wide and seemingly innocent. He knew what she was really thinking, knew what it was she really wanted. He only had himself to blame, knowing that he hadn't actively been discouraging her.

"Did ya hear from Emma Jane?" one of the other girls asked innocently.

This was the final straw. Hank got up from the table and stormed back into the bar to get another drink. Jessica followed him and stood behind him while he poured it and drank it. Then she walked over and slipped her arm around his waist.

"Don't worry, Hank," she said, "I know it's hard but…I can make it all better." She turned him to face her, "Can't I?" she looked up at him, her face smiling and opening. She wanted him and he knew it.

"No," he said after a long pause, "Ya can't." He pushed her away from him and took another drink.

Jessica watched him, annoyed at his dismissal of her, "Ya know somethin' Hank? Ya'd better start being nice to me."

"What ya talkin' about?" he said, his back still to her.

"I'm talkin' about the fact that ya use me like yer wife and ya don't care about the consequences. Could be that I'm expectin'." It was a lie, but as far as Jessica was concerned, it was worth a shot.

Hank turned to look at her, "What?"

"Sayin' I could be." She looked at him defiantly. Before she knew what had happened, Hank had grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her towards the door. "Stop it!" she cried out, "Hank!"

He opened the door and threw her outside, "I know ya, Jessica. I know what yer all about. Can see right through ya. Bin tryin' to take Emma Jane's place ever since she left. Ya ain't pregnant, and the fact that ya could say ya was…" it made him feel sick at the thought that he might have impregnated her, "don't come back!"

"Ya can't do that!" Jessica got to her feet, "What about my things?"

"Ain't yer things," he replied, "They're my things."

"But…but it's Christmas Day!" she protested.

He didn't reply. Instead, he merely turned and went back inside, locking the doors behind him. Jessica bashed her fists against them, pleading with him to let her in, but he ignored her. He didn't want to bring a child into the world with a woman he didn't love, a woman who meant nothing more to him than a few moments pleasure. The only person he wanted a child with, was Emma Jane.

**New York City**

It was the worst Christmas Dinner Emma Jane had ever had to sit through. She had forgotten exactly just how rude and obnoxious Georgina Bowman was. The woman had either ignored her completely, or made barely veiled remarks about her lifestyle. Emma Jane wanted to scream, or rather, wanted to slap her hard on the face. Good manners however, prevented either. Victoria sat, contentedly messing around with her dinner in her highchair. It took Emma Jane back to last Christmas in the saloon…with Hank.

"We're very excited about Europe," Mrs Bowman declared, "Aren't we Clara?"

"Yes Mother," Clara replied.

"It's going to be a most wonderful trip. Clara's going to visit the best designers and come home with a whole new wardrobe. She really is going to be an exquisite bride." Mrs Bowman paused and looked at Emma Jane, "What did you wear on your wedding day, Emma Jane?"

"Mother!" Clara hissed.

"Well, I didn't know when I left home that I was to be married, so I'm afraid I had to make do with my lilac dress," Emma Jane replied sweetly, "when Hank and I renewed our vows, however, Thomas brought me the loveliest dress, didn't you?" Thomas nodded.

"Lilac dress?" Mrs Bowman snorted, "hardly appropriate attire."

"Well, it was all I had with me at the time."

"Georgina," Mrs Brown broke in, eager to divert the conversation, "have you seen the new opera? Frederick and I were there last week and I thought it was terrible."

"Yes, the soprano was rather flat," Mrs Bowman acquiesced, "When is your baby due, Emma Jane?"

Emma Jane paused, fork halfway to mouth, "April I believe."

"You believe?"

"Yes, you see I'm not quite sure about the date," she continued, "we country dwellers do tend to be at it like rabbits." Mrs Brown almost choked on her turkey, Mr Brown froze and Thomas starting laughing into his wine. Emma Jane looked calmly at Mrs Bowman, whose face turned bright red.

"Well I never…" she said, "I mean I…"

"Emma Jane, please leave the table," her father said calmly.

"Father…"

"Now please," he insisted.

Emma Jane put down her fork, pushed her chair out from the table, lifted Victoria from her highchair, and left the room as quickly as she could. She sat down in the drawing room, cursing herself for having thought herself so smart. But why did her parents not defend her? She felt anger at their complete inability to speak up against a woman who was quite obviously insulting their daughter. That's when she remembered Carolyn's letter, safely stowed in her room at the boarding house. She had been planning on posting it, but was it really any way to learn of your child's death? It would be so much better coming from someone who had known Carolyn, who had cared about her.

Her mind made up, she stormed back into the dining room, "Just so you know," she interrupted Mrs Bowman in full flow about the last party she had been at, "I'm leaving."

"Emma Jane…" Thomas got his feet.

"No, Thomas, it's fine," she held up her hand, "I can recognise when I'm not wanted," she looked meaningfully at her mother, "First thing in the morning, I shall be on my way to Boston."

"Boston?" Mrs Brown exclaimed, "What on earth…?"

"There are some people there that I need to see. I don't know how long I'll be, or when I'll be back, but I just wanted to let you know."

"In your condition Emma…" Thomas continued.

""It's not a condition, Thomas, it's a baby. My baby. And I'm not ashamed of it. Good night to you all," with that, she turned and headed for the door, Victoria protesting loudly.

"Emma Jane!" Thomas followed her, "Be reasonable. What on earth are you going to Boston for?"

"A friend of mine died Thomas, and her parents don't even know," she told him, her lower lip quivering, "I owe it to her to tell them in person."

"Can't someone else go?" he begged her.

"No, this is down to me," she kissed his cheek, "I hope you have a pleasant evening." Then she hurried down the steps and disappeared into the night.

**Colorado Springs**

"This is what ya need," Loren said, holding up his glass, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Jake and Hank echoed, clinking their glasses with his. The saloon had only a few customers in it, those who had managed to get away from their wives.

"Look at the poor souls," Jake commented, "desperate to get away from the womenfolk."

"Bad enough normally. It's always ten times worse at Christmas," Loren grumbled.

"Yeah well, long live the bachelors," Jake said, raising his glass again. Hank joined in half-heartedly, "Aw c'mon Hank," he pressed, "Ain't good fer ya being so down bout it. She's gone and she ain't comin' back." He paused on Hank's look, "Sorry, ain't gonna start that again."

"Jake's right, Hank," Loren said, "It's been what, six months, more, since Emma Jane left. Gotta get on with yer life."

"Don't see ya doin' a jig since Maud died," Hank reminded him.

"That's different," Loren replied, "Maud died. Emma Jane left ya."

"Don't remind me."

"Can't believe ya threw that little sweetie, Jessica, out," Jake said, "she was awful nice."

"She was gettin' ideas," Hank said, "Thinkin' she could take Emma Jane's place." He had softened slightly and allowed her to take her things, but he had still demanded she leave the saloon and she had walked slowly down the street, lost and alone.

Loren and Jake exchanged looks, "Why not?" the former said, "she'd be a good little wife to ya."

Hank didn't reply. Didn't anyone in the town understand how he felt about Emma Jane? How he couldn't just switch off as if she had never existed? As if _they _had never existed?

"Fact is, I envy ya," Jake said.

"How's that?" Hank asked.

"You've know love," he stated simply, "A love like no other. Ya loved her more than anythin'. Ya would have done anythin' fer her. Hell, if ya'd thought for one minute that that Injun had raped her, ya would have killed him yerself. Ya took the two of us out on a hunt for the real culprit. You've known what it's like to love someone enough to do that," he shook his head, "I ain't never had that."

Hank looked at him, a realisation dawning inside. Emma Jane, the love of his life, she was out there in New York with his daughter, and he was sitting in the saloon feeling sorry for himself and venting his passion on another woman. The answer had been staring him in the face for months, only Michaela had been right: he was too afraid to take it. He was afraid in case she shunned him, told him to go away, yelled that she never wanted to see him again. But what if she was really just waiting for him?

As Jake and Loren watched, Hank stepped back from the bar and started clearing glasses, "Closin' up, folks, drink up."

"What's goin' on?" Loren demanded.

"Ain't gonna be around for a few weeks gentlemen," Hank replied, "Gonna have to make do with yer own whiskey."

"What ya talkin' about?" Jake asked, "Where ya goin'?"

Hank grinned at him, "New York City."


	7. Chapter Seven

Sorry it's been so long since I updated! (I'm still alive Captain Tish!) Had exams and a job interview and had a slight block. I wrote the chapter that follows this before this one, and I feel this is very much a filler chapter before the next one. But I hope you like it anyway. Please review!

"Ya can't go all the way to Boston!" Mrs Kimble declared when Emma Jane returned to the boarding house, "Not in your condition!"

"I can't let Carolyn's parents find out about her death through a letter," Emma Jane replied, "It's going to be awful enough for them as it is."

"How do ya know they'll even care?" Mrs Kimble asked, "they ain't bothered about her for all these years…"

"Things happen in families, I know that," Emma Jane replied, "but surely any mother would want to be told about their child's death in person. I know I would. Wouldn't you?"

Mrs Kimble made a face, "I suppose so. But why do _ya _have to go? Can't we send Peter and Kevin? Ya shouldn't be travelling!"

"It's only a day by train. I'll be back in three days."

"And what about the little 'un?" Mrs Kimble gestured to Victoria.

"What about her?"

"Ya can't take her al the way to Boston and back!"

"Why not?"

"She's been shunted back and forth across the country enough already in the last year, Emma Jane. Ain't good for a child." Mrs Kimble sighed, "If yer that set on goin' leave her here with me."

Emma Jane paused. It wasn't that she didn't trust Mrs Kimble to look after Victoria, after all the woman was more of a mother to her than her own, but she had never been separated from Victoria.

"Ain't good for a child to always be hangin' round her mother's neck," Mrs Kimble replied, "She'll be fine here with me. Peter can help, ya know how much he adores her."

"I suppose," Emms Jane replied reluctantly. She looked down at her daughter, "Are you sure you would manage? What with running the boarding house and everything."

"Raised three big boys on my own after my no-good husband left," Mrs Kimble confided, "Reckon I could take care of one little girl." She looked hard at Emma Jane, "Ya sure yer all right? Ya look very pale."

"I'm fine," Emma Jane assured her, "Just tired, it's been a long day."

"Well, if yer gettin' that train tomorrow, get up them stairs and get to bed," Mrs Kimble instructed, "ain't gonna be much good to Carolyn's folks if ya faint at their door."

Emma Jane smiled, "All right, Mrs Kimble, thank you." She lifted Victoria up and carried her up to their room, thinking back to the fiasco at her parents' house. Would her mother care if she had been lying dying like Carolyn? No doubt Mrs Brown would have sighed and said it was no more than she deserved for her lifestyle.

Putting Victoria down in her bed, Emma Jane thought about Hank and hoped he was having a better Christmas than she was.

SSSS

Halfway to Denver, Hank had almost had a change of heart and was about to yell to the stagecoach driver that he wanted to get off and go back. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the prospect of seeing Emma Jane again, even if it were only for a few short moments in which she told him she never wanted to see him again. He missed seeing her, missed hearing her voice, and knew he only had himself to blame. If he hadn't been so stubborn and pig-headed then he could have stopped her from leaving in the first place.

When he boarded the train in the city, a man and woman came and sat in the same compartment as him. They were clearly newly-weds, all smiles and illicit touching. He wished he could say it reminded him of his own newly-wed status, but the truth was, he and Emma Jane hadn't had such a honeymoon period. He hated himself for the way he had tricked her into marrying him, and he hated himself more for letting her get attacked by that man. Even though he knew he couldn't have prevented it, he still felt guilty.

But all that was going to change. He was going to change and Emma Jane was going to see a whole new Hank Lawson if it killed him.

SSSS

Emma Jane was also sitting on the train contemplating her marriage. She had left Victoria in Mrs Kimble's capable care and told her what to tell the minister should he call round to discuss Carolyn's funeral. Then, she had packed a small bag, not knowing what to expect in Boston, and had headed to catch the first train out of New York. To her surprise, the station had been busy, filled with people travelling home after the holiday or meeting up with family they hadn't had a chance to see. It seemed as though everywhere she looked, there were couples.

As she sat, staring out of the window at the scenery, her mind wandered back to her husband. She ached for him, more than she would ever tell anyone. Mrs Kimble made various references to him, leading remarks that were begging for her to open the floodgates, but she never gave in to temptation. She was afraid the other woman would think her a fool for having fled Colorado Springs, and she knew Thomas still didn't understand why she had come back to the city. Only Isabella had remained silent on the issue. She hadn't ever known Hank, but she had never given Emma Jane the impression that she thought she had done the wrong thing. It was nice not to be judged, but yet she couldn't stop judging herself.

She was just thinking about what she was going to do when the baby was born when the train suddenly slammed on its brakes and began grinding quickly to a halt. Emma Jane was thrown forward in her seat and held out her hand to stop herself from crashing into the seat opposite. The train came to a juddering halt in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. As there was no-one else in her compartment, Emma Jane got up and opened the door to see if she could see what was happening. All along the corridor of the train, other people were doing the same.

"What is it?" one man asked her.

"I've no idea," she replied truthfully.

"Probably a cow on the line," another man replied gruffly, "typical."

At that moment, however, the door at the far end of the carriage was flung open and two men, wearing bandanas over the lower halves of their faces, came barrelling towards them, waving pistols in the air and shouting.

"Back in yer seats!" one of them yelled angrily, "get back in, now!"

Emma Jane darted back into her compartment and sat back down, feeling her heart beating faster in her chest. It was obviously no cow on the line, but a robbery. She sat, hearing her blood pumping around her body, listening as people were reluctantly relived of their possessions, until the door to her apartment slid open and one of the men looked in at her.

"All alone?" he queried, though there was no concern in his tone. Emma Jane looked at him wordlessly. "Hand it over," he held out his hand while pointing the gun at her with the other.

"I…I don't have much money," she replied, fishing in her bag for what little silver there was. Drawing it out, she held it out to him, "that's all I have, honestly." She wasn't about to tell him about the money sewn into her briefs, a trick she had learnt back west.

The man looked at her as if he didn't quite believe her, but then he shrugged, "It'll do. The ring as well."

Emma Jane made to protest, "But…"

"The ring," he repeated, "now!"

With trembling fingers, she prised off her wedding ring and held it out to him. He snatched it from her and then, with a mock salute, disappeared back into the corridor of the train. Emma Jane sat staring at her bare wedding finger. It almost seemed apt that as her marriage was over, so should her ring be taken. But she felt an enormous sense of loss, for it had been the first thing Hank had ever given her, and the one constant for the last ten years.

SSSS

When Hank arrived in Denver, all anyone seemed to be able to talk about was the hold-up on the New York to Boston train earlier that morning. The story didn't interest him particularly, as hold-ups weren't uncommon in the Colorado territory. He had lost count of the number of people who had pointed a gun at him in the saloon and told him to hand over all the cash. In the old days, he had braved them out, been cocky and taken the thieves on, resulting in more often than not a trip to Jake. Even when he had married Emma Jane, he had been the same, his bravado aimed at protecting her while she and the girls hid behind the bar. Since he had become a father, however, Hank's attitude had changed, and he had been more inclined to give it up, always making sure that he never gave it all away. He had wanted to protect his daughter, and yet he had let her go off to New York with her mother, unprotected. His feeling of low self-worth came flooding back, and once again he wondered if it was maybe too late to change.

The train was delayed and so he sat in the station for a good few hours, rehearsing what he was going to say once they were face to face again. By the time he got on the train, he had it all planned out, providing she said nothing in between to throw him off. He would lay all his cards on the table and let her make her choice, and he could only hope and pray it would be the right one.

SSSS

When she got off the train, Emma Jane checked again the address on Carolyn's letter and hurried out of the station to try and hail a carriage. The snow was falling heavily now and she pulled her shawl closer around her for warmth, but it had little effect. There was a queue of carriages waiting and she hurried up to the first one.

"Excuse me," she called to the driver, "could you take me to…" she checked the envelope again, "Matthews Street?"

He looked at her as if she were crazy, "Matthews Street? Easier walking."

She looked back at him, "Really?"

"Sure. Isn't worth me taking you. Just go up this street, take the first right, second left, first right and it's on the left."

"Thank you," she replied, wishing that he would just let her get in the damn carriage. Putting her head down, she made her way up the street. It was difficult, what with the snow lying all around, but as she emerged onto the main street and continued to follow his directions, she realised he had been right, it wasn't far. By the time she reached Matthews Street however, she was freezing, her teeth chattering and her feet numb with cold. Looking at the house numbers, she realised she was at the wrong end, and so continued to make her way down until she came to number 54.

It was a large townhouse, much like her parents' in New York and when she rang the bell, a maid not unlike Helen answered.

"Can I help you?" the maid asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Good evening, I'm sorry to trouble you," Emma Jane said, "I'm looking for Mr and Mrs Adams, are they at home?"

"Who may I say is calling?"

"My name's Emma Jane Lawson. I'm a friend of their daughter's."

"One moment," the maid closed the door, leaving Emma Jane shivering on the stoop. A few moments later, she reappeared, "come in." She held the door open wider and Emma Jane stepped inside. The house was very like her parents, even in terms of the décor, and she found herself looking at the pictures that adorned the wall.

"Hello?" a man's voice caused her to turn around and she saw him coming towards her from along a darkened corridor, "Sally said we had a visitor," he greeted her warmly, "It's always nice to meet our daughter's friends. Here," he held out his hand for her to give him her coat, "You must be freezing. Come into the parlour where my wife is." He led her into another warm, inviting room where a woman sat sewing next to the fire. She looked up as they entered.

"Hello," she greeted Emma Jane, "how lovely to see you. Sit down." Slightly dubious, Emma Jane sat down opposite her. "I hope you didn't walk far," she said, gesturing with her head to Emma Jane's obvious bump/

"No," she replied, "only from the station."

"The station?" the woman declared, "Good heavens, that's miles away! You should have taken a carriage."

Emma Jane wanted to say that she wished she had too, but she let it pass. These people seemed so open and friendly, it was hard to believe they would ever have shunned their daughter.

"So," the man said, coming over with a glass of whiskey, "I've told Sally to bring some tea. What did you say your name was again?"

"Emma Jane Lawson."

"Emma Jane…" he mused, "I'm sorry, I must be getting old, but I don't remember hearing your name ever mentioned. How do you know Felicity?"

"Oh…" Emma Jane said, "I'm not…I mean…I don't."

Mrs Adams looked at her in confusion, "But I thought you said you were a friend of our daughter's."

"I am…I mean, I was…I mean…" Emma Jane sighed, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you had a daughter named Felicity. I was a friend of Carolyn's."

Mrs Adams went visibly pale and looked at her husband for support, "Roger…"

"Yes, yes," he said, clearing his throat, "Carolyn, you say?"

Emma Jane nodded, "Yes, I…"

"How do you know her?"

"Well…I first met her ten years ago, in Colorado Springs. It's a small town in…well…Colorado. She was…working for my husband."

Mr Adams set his jaw grimly and nodded, "Go on/"

"She left and I didn't see her for a long time after, but I met her again a few months ago in New York, and we became very good friends."

"I'm sorry…" Mrs Adams said, wiping her eyes, "we haven't seen or heard from Carolyn in such a long time that…well it's difficult to talk about."

"I understand."

"How is she?" Mr Adams asked.

Emma Jane felt as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders, "Well she…I…when I met her again, she told me she was…unwell." She was reluctant to tell them it was syphilis, "I'm afraid…I'm afraid she died on Christmas Eve."

At that moment, Sally came in with tea, and seeing the tense faces of the room's occupants, swiftly put it down and left again.

"I…" Mrs Adams stuttered, "but…but…dead?"

"I'm so very sorry," Emma Jane said, "She wrote you a letter…" she took it out of her pocket, "She wanted me to send it to you after…but I felt it was better to tell you face to face. I'm a mother myself and I knew that I would want to be told by someone who…" She was cut off by Mrs Adams beginning to sob, "I'm so sorry." She looked over at Mr Adams who she could see was trying to remain stoic, but his lower lip was trembling.

"Did she suffer?" he asked.

"Her end was quite peaceful," Emma Jane replied, wanting to spare them the image of the deterioration of their child.

"We…we wanted her to get in touch with us, but we never knew where she was," Mrs Adams said, "all these years and we never knew. We just…hoped she would come back to us one day. Why didn't she come back?"

"I think…I think she was afraid that you would be ashamed of what she had done," Emma Jane offered, "I think _she _was ashamed of it and…and she didn't want…" she tailed off, knowing that everything she was saying was complete rubbish. She reached for her cup of tea and brought it to her lips with trembling fingers.

"Was she alone at the end?" Mr Adams asked.

"No, I was with her."

"Thank God for that," he declared. "Has she been buried?"

"No, not yet. They wanted to give her a pauper's funeral but I stopped them. I thought that…you might want…"

Mrs Adams looked at her with tear stained eyes, "You were a good friend to her."

"I hope so," Emma Jane replied.

"Thank you for telling us," Mr Adams said.

Emma Jane was reluctant to impose on their grief any longer and she stood up to leave, but dizziness over took her and she slumped back down into her seat.

"Are you all right?" Mrs Adams asked, jumping to her feet.

"I'm fine," Emma Jane reassured her, "I'm…just a little dizzy, that's all. The train was robbed on the way here and I think I…"

"Robbed? Were you hurt?"

"No," she replied, glancing down sadly at the place where her wedding ring had once been.

"Have you somewhere to be tonight?" she asked.

"I was planning to just check myself into a small hotel somewhere."

"Nonsense, you must stay here," Mrs Adams looked at her husband, "Mustn't she, Roger."

"Indeed."

"I couldn't possibly…" Emma Jane protested, but she wasn't relishing the thought of going back outside.

"You can and you will," Mrs Adams said, "it'll be nice to speak to someone who…who knew Carolyn. We've missed so much over these last years.

While the Adams' were incredibly hospitable, it was one of the worst nights of Emma Jane's life. She didn't feel particularly well, the effects of being so cold the day before, and while Mrs Adams tried to talk about other things, the conversation inevitably, and understandably, always came back to Carolyn and inevitably to tears. At one point, Emma Jane stood helplessly while Mrs Adams sobbed in her arms. The worst thing was, it brought Emma Jane herself to tears each time, and with each passing cry, she felt more and more drained. When she finally got to bed in one of the spare rooms, she was so exhausted that she couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning while her baby kicked inside her, she eventually gave up and got out of bed to look out the window. The snow had stopped, and the whole of the street looked calm and peaceful in a blanket of white.

There had hardly been any snow in Colorado Springs over the years and to see it all again usually would have given her a thrill, but as a result of everything else that had happened, it ceased to have any effect on her.

"Ow!" she said, as the baby delivered a swift kick in her abdomen, "Settle down," she told it, "I know you're there." She moved back over to bed and climbed back in, lying looking at the ceiling, her hand protectively over her bump. Then she started to cry.

SSSS

The following morning, Emma Jane dragged herself out of bed and downstairs for breakfast, where the Adams' were still in deep despair. Breakfast was undertaken in relative silence, but feeling as ill as she did, Emma Jane didn't protest. She was longing for her bed back at the boarding house, something she had thought she would never wish for, but the thought of a day's train ride back to New York was not appealing.

"How are you this morning, Emma Jane?" Mr Adams asked politely.

"Fine thank you," she replied, not wanting to tell him how awful she felt.

"We were talking last night," he said, "and we want to bring Carolyn back to Boston to be buried."

"I see."

"I've arranged for her coffin to be transported," he continued, "I hope that doesn't horrify you."

"Of course not," she replied, "I think it's a good idea."

He nodded, "The funeral should be in a few days time and you're welcome to stay."

"I…" it was the last thing she wanted, "I said my goodbyes to Carolyn. I think her funeral should be a private affair."

"Thank you," Mrs Adams said, "We appreciate everything you've done for her."

"I didn't do much," Emma Jane said.

"You were there for her. You were with my little girl when she left this world," Mrs Adams said, tears flowing again, "I wasn't, and for that, I'll always feel guilty. But I'm glad she had a friend."

Emma Jane forced down the rest of her breakfast and then gratefully accepted Mr Adam's offer of his carriage back to the station. As she sat back on the journey, she had never felt so awful in her life. Every part of her ached, and she felt sick, something she hadn't experienced for a long time. The baby was vicious this morning, kicking violently against her, causing her to wince in pain more than once.

By the time she was settled on the train, she started to cry again out of sheer despair, exhaustion and pain, both physical and emotional. She needed Hank badly, and he wasn't there.

SSSS

When he alighted at New York, Hank felt a sense of excitement mixed with fear churning inside of him. In a few moments, he would find out if it had all been worth it, if she would take him back and accept his apologies. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper he had carried with him, Emma Jane's last letter before Christmas. He gazed at the spidery handwriting for a moment, a vision of her coming into his mind, before he glanced at the return address. The boarding house was located on 33rd street and while he couldn't profess to be an expert, as far as he knew, it wasn't the nicest of areas.

Stepping out into the street, he looked around for a carriage, but then decided that it would be better to walk. He had money, most of the saloon's takings, but he wanted to use it for something other than a two minute carriage ride. Putting his head down against the falling snow, he trudged onwards, stopping every so often to look at the street names, until he finally saw the sign for 33rd street. Turning into it, he was immediately hit by the dirt and grim and his impression didn't improve much as he headed for the door of the boarding house.

Hank knocked on the boarding house door and waited, looking up at the grimy windows. It didn't look much of a place, even the saloon looked palatial in comparison. After a moment, the door opened and a heavy-set woman appeared holding a child Hank was positive was Victoria.

"Can I help ya?" she demanded.

"I'm lookin' fer someone," he said, "Emma Jane Lawson?"

The woman eyed him suspiciously, "And who might ya be? Ya ain't the vicar, I can tell that just by lookin' at ya."

"I'm her husband."

Mrs Kimble's eyes grew wide, "Well! About time ya showed up!" She glared at him, "Leavin' the poor girl alone here in the city, and yer child too," she gestured to Victoria.

Hank looked at Victoria, who looked back at him with wide blue eyes that didn't show any great recognition, then he looked back at Mrs Kimble, who showed no sign of being about to invite him in. "Can I come in?"

"I s'pose," Mrs Kimble stepped back, "but she ain't here. She's in Boston."

"Boston?" Hank echoed, following her inside the building, "What's she doin' there?"

"Don't think I should be givin' out Emma Jane's business," Mrs Kimble said, leading the way into the kitchen, "can I get ya some tea?"

"Uh…yeah…thanks," Hank took his hat off, "When will she be back?"

"Hopefully sometime tonight," came the reply, "She left a coupla days ago. Ya want to hold yer child?"

Hank had been about to ask if that was the same day as the robbery, but her quick change of subject threw him and he nodded. Mrs Kimble handed Victoria to him. She seemed fascinated by his hair and grabbed onto it with her hands and started laughing. "She's grown," he commented.

"Yep."

"Mama," Victoria said, looking up at him.

"Yeah," he replied softly, "we both want yer Mama, huh?"

"She's a bit quiet, mind," Mrs Kimble said as she made the tea," doesn't talk as much as some other babies. But I guess that's to be expected, the upheaval she's had in her young life." She looked meaningfully at Hank, who felt himself being well and truly chastised. "What's taken ya so long?"

"What?" he looked at her.

"Said, what's taken ya so long?" she repeated, "Emma Jane's bin here six months now and ya ain't shown yer face until now."

"Ain't none of yer business," he shot back. Victoria started to cry and he held her close, "Between me an' Emma Jane."

Mrs Kimble looked at the man in front of her, the one who very obviously had gotten his wife pregnant and yet didn't seem to give two hoots as to how she and the baby had gotten along these past months. She set a cup down roughly in front of him, "She's a good girl is Emma Jane. Never a bad word to say bout anyone, despite everythin' she's bin through."

"How do ya mean?"

"All that trouble at the Black Bull," Mrs Kimble waved her hand, "Almost gettin' herself killed for a start."

"Killed?" Hank looked at her in horror, "But…"

"Aw, she was fine," she reassured him, "bit battered and bruised but fine. Lucky she didn't go back there, anyway. Found herself a better job making dresses with Mrs Bentley."

"Told me that in her letter."

"I bet she did," Mrs Kimble eyed him from where she was leaning against the counter. He was quite handsome in a country kind of way. It had been years since she'd been anywhere out with New York's boundaries, but she knew a handsome man when she saw one. Emma Jane had been a fool to run away from this one. But then, he hadn't even enquired after the baby…

"She a'right?" Hank asked, lifting his eyes to hers.

Mrs Kimble bit her tongue against everything she wanted to say, "Yep, she's fine."

SSSS

Finally, the journey back to New York was at an end and as the train pulled into the station, Emma Jane forced herself to her feet and made her way out of the train onto the platform. She was longing to get back and see Victoria again, not having realised just how much she had missed her.

As she climbed into a carriage and ordered the driver to take her to the boarding house, Emma Jane felt as though she could fall asleep at any moment. Her head ached, her whole body ached, and there was a slight, unwelcome pain in her abdomen which she had tried to ignore ever since she got off the train. Every time she thought about Mrs Adams and the way she had sobbed in Emma Jane's arms, she wanted to burst into her own tears again. She wasn't sure, however, if she had any left, but emotion sat like a hard lump of candy at the top of her throat.

When the carriage pulled up, the driver kindly helped her down, and she paid him with literally her last few cents. Then, she put one foot in front of the other as best she could and headed for the door.

Emma Jane opened the door to the boarding house with great effort, stepped in, closed it behind her and leant against it briefly. She had never felt so drained in her life, physically and emotionally, her body protesting against the demands she made of it. Inside her, her baby kicked, but she felt no joy at the present moment. Moving slowly along the corridor, she could hear voices coming from the kitchen.

"Emma Jane…?" Mrs Kimble said, opening the door.

"Oh, I'm exhausted," she said, "it was so awful, Mrs Kimble. All I want to do is just go to bed and forget all about it."

"You've got a visitor," Mrs Kimble said.

"What?" Emma Jane wasn't in the mood to see anyone. If it was Thomas, she knew she would have to send him away, "Who is it?"

Mrs Kimble pushed the door open wider and Emma Jane saw Hank rise slowly from his seat at the table. She stood staring at him, unwilling to believe he was actually in front of her.

"Hank?" she breathed, stepping forward slightly.

Hank grinned at her and made to move towards her, when his gaze dropped to her stomach and his smile slipped.

Her resolve broke, and the tears burst from within her, "Hank!" she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him, pressing herself close, "You're here…you're here…"

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UP IN NEXT FEW DAYS!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Hope I'm not spoiling you again by getting this chapter up quickly! Just a note that the information about Hank's personal background in this chapter is taken from 'California' the spin-off from Dr Quinn, therefore, I don't own the characters of Ben and Brian MacKay. Hope you enjoy!**

"Hank…" Emma Jane sobbed against him, burying her face in his hair, her body heaving, "You're here…you're here…" she repeated herself over and over again, clinging to him as if he might vanish at any moment. Hank held her, his arms tightly around her shaking body, yet he was still too stunned to speak. Suddenly, Emma Jane pulled back, "But you shouldn't be here," she said, her face damp and her eyes red, "You shouldn't be here. You weren't supposed to find out like this." She started to back away from him, "You weren't supposed to find out like this."

"Emma…" he spoke finally.

"No," she moved further back, "No, not like this, no!" Then she turned and bolted for the stairs, Hank in close pursuit.

"Emma Jane, wait!" he called, chasing her up the stairs, "Wait!"

"No!" she said, hurrying along to her door as fast as her body would allow her, "No, you shouldn't be here!" she opened the door to her room and threw it shut, but Hank already had his body against it and it opened easily. She scurried to the far corner of the room and stood with her back to him, one hand over her mouth.

"Thought bout a lotta things on the way here," he said, after a pause, "bout what I was gonna find, how I was gonna react. Never thought I'd come and find this." She didn't say anything, "How far along are ya?"

Emma Jane took a deep, shaky breath, "Six months."

Hank sighed, "Why didn't ya tell me in yer letters? Hell, why didn't ya come home the minute ya found out?"

"I couldn't," she replied, "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't tell you about it because I was afraid."

Hank sighed heavily, "Back to this again? Seems like we've already had this conversation once before. Am I really such a terrible husband?"

She turned at this and looked at him, her eyes wide, "No, of course not."

"So why couldn't ya tell me ya were carrying my child?"

Emma Jane swallowed hard, "Because…because…"

"Because what?"

"Because it might not be your child," she blurted out.

Hank looked at her, "What do ya mean?"

"Think about it, Hank," she said softly.

He paused to think for a moment and then it came to him. She could see the realisation dawning in his face and he looked at her in shock, "Ya think it's…his?"

"I don't know," she sat down on the bed and put a hand over her bump, "There's no way to tell. I've only ever lain with two men my whole life and one of them wasn't even by choice. But it just so happens that I lay with both of them around the same time." She looked over at him, "You made love to me the morning after it happened, Hank. When you came home from Soda Springs? I just don't know…"

Hank sighed and sat down on the bed beside her, "That why ya didn't tell me? Case I didn't want it?"

"I could never ask you to bring up another man's child as your own. It wouldn't be fair." She looked down at her hands, "When I first found out I was expecting, I was horrified and… a little disgusted if the truth be told, thinking about how a man who violated me so violently could have created a new life inside me. Remember what you said to me the night you found out the truth? 'Did he leave behind a little bastard?' Hank closed his eyes briefly. "I thought about what you said, about how it could well be his and…part of me hated it. Part of me wanted it out of me so badly. But…" she smiled gently, "another part of me loved it, because it was my child, mine. Regardless of who its father was." She paused, "I love this baby, Hank. I love it the same way I love Victoria and I can't imagine letting anyone take it from me. It's clung on to life, through everything that's happened since that night," she thought briefly back to Hank's violence towards her, "That's why I didn't tell you, because I knew that if you asked me to choose, I wouldn't be able to choose you."

Hank looked at her, "Ya think I would ask ya to choose?"

She returned his gaze, "Would you?"

He didn't reply. The truth was, there was nothing more repugnant to him than the knowledge his wife could be carrying another man's baby. He looked at her figure, the swelling of her stomach, the fullness of her breasts and he remembered when she had been carrying Victoria.

"Why did you come?" she broke into his thoughts.

"Missed ya," he replied simply, "spent the past six months miserable without ya. Guess I figured I could come here an' win ya back," he grinned at her, "Ya missed me?"

"Of course," she leaned her head against his shoulder, "every day, like a pain that wouldn't go away. I asked myself, long before I knew I was pregnant, whether or not I had done the right thing by leaving, or whether I should have stayed and tried to work things out."

"Fact is, I was stubborn," he replied, "didn't give ya a chance to explain or make things right. Just ended up makin' things ten times worse."

Emma Jane knew he was thinking about Jessica. "You were angry," she said, "I should have told you everything from the beginning and I didn't. I don't blame you for Jessica."

Hank looked at her sideways, knowing that she didn't know the true picture, "Saloon ain't been the same since ya left. Not to mention the fact Michaela stuck her nose in, as usual."

"She did?"

He nodded, "Said I hadn't stopped ya from leavin' cause I was afraid. And I hadn't come after ya because I was afraid." He sighed, "She was right."

"What were you afraid of?" Emma Jane asked.

"That ya'd blame me for what happened. That ya wouldn't want to come back anyway. Fact is, I blame myself."

"It wasn't your fault, Hank," she tried to reassure him, "You weren't even there."

"Exactly."

"The only person to blame for what happened to me is the man who attacked me. Everything after that is our fault, and I mean _our _fault. Not just yours." She put her hand on his arm.

"Where's yer ring?" he said, noticing it was gone.

"I was robbed on the train to Boston," she confessed.

Hank looked at her in concern, "Didn't hurt ya did they?"

"No," she shook her head, "but he pointed a pretty big gun in my face so I thought it might be silly to refuse to hand it over."

He kissed her hand where the ring had once been, "Sorry I weren't there to protect ya. Sorry for everythin'." He looked over at her, "Why didn't ya really tell me what happened to ya that night?"

"I told you," she replied, "I was afraid of what you might do and say. Turns out I was right." Hank winced, "I didn't mean…I'm not talking about what happened between us that night," she thought back to him striking her, "I just mean…I'm not even sure."

Hank looked at her, "I love ya, Emma Jane. Always have, always will. Know I ain't always been the best husband to ya and I ain't always treated ya right, but…I love ya more than I've ever loved anyone in the world."

"I love you too," she replied, "and I wanted this to happen for so long. But…" she stood up and looked out of the window.

"But what?"

"But there's so much that's happened, so much that's changed." She touched her stomach again, "like this for example." She turned to look at him, "I want this to be your child, Hank, more than anything. But I can't give you that guarantee."

Hank regarded her steadily, the woman he loved more than anything, her body softly rounded with child. Maybe his child, maybe not., but he didn't know if he could walk away from her for the rest of his life, never hold her in his arms, never have her near him and never see the child he knew was definitely his.

"Ever tell ya bout my brother?"

"Nicholas? Of course."

"Not that brother. I mean my other brother, Brian."

Emma Jane looked at him in surprise, "I didn't know that you had another brother."

Hank nodded, "After my Pa died, my Ma met this rich guy in Texas, Ben MacKay. He nearly ran her over with his carriage in the town we lived in." He smiled to himself, "She was a fiery one, my Ma, and she gave him what for fer nearly killin' her. Anyways, next thing we know, he started comin' to our house to see Ma. Course we didn't know what they did when he came, always told to go to bed." His smile faded, "Not long after, Ma fell pregnant and had Brian. Thought he was the ugliest little thing I'd ever seen, all fat and fussin'. Ma loved him though and she thought that this fella would leave his wife and come be with her."

"But he didn't?"

Hank shook his head, "No. 'Stead, he rode out one night, took Brian from her and took him back to his wife. Guess they figured half a child was better than none at all." He looked up at Emma Jane, "Ma never got over losin' Brian. Wasted away, hopin' and prayin' that some day he'd come back, but course he never did. She died never knowin' what had happened to her son."

"Why didn't she try and get him back? He was her son?"

"MacKay was powerful. Ma didn't stand a chance." He stood up and came and stood in front of her, "I seen what losin' her child did to my Ma, so ain't no way in Hell I could ever tell ya to give yours up." He reached forward and put his hand gently on her stomach, "Hell, fifty-fifty chance it's mine anyhow."

"You mean it?" Emma Jane asked, tears hovering in her eyes, "You'd let me come home even if it's not…"

"Aw Emma…" Hank pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head gently, "Ain't never gonna turn ya away from our home, never."

Emma Jane sighed happily, "Thank you," she whispered, "thank you."

He pulled back from her and kissed her gently, "So, I figure we should celebrate, don't you? Can't come all the way to New York and not go to one of them fancy restaurants."

Emma Jane's smile slipped, "What?"

"Gonna take my wife out for dinner."

"I…Hank, I…I can't," she said.

"How come? Ya not feelin' so good?"

She wanted to tell him how awful she was feeling, but even besides that, it wasn't the real reason. "No, it's not that. It's…well…"

"Well what?"

"Women in my condition aren't supposed to go to restaurants."

He looked at her, "In yer condition?" She nodded, "Seem to remember when ya was pregnant with Victoria ya was out and about in town all the time."

"That's different," she protested, "that was Colorado Springs, this is New York. Things are different here. It's not fitting to be seen out when you're expecting."

Hank put his finger under her chin and tilted it up towards him, "Since when have ya ever cared bout what was fittin'? Seems to me you've already scandalised most of the city. Might as well finish the job."

Emma Jane smiled wanly. The last thing she wanted to do was to go out. All she wanted to do was sleep.

SSSS

The Burberry Hotel was one of the best hotels in the city with one of the best restaurants. When they alighted from the carriage outside, Emma Jane paused, silently wondering how on earth Hank was intending on paying. In her previous life, she had been a regular guest at the Burberry and she knew that most of New York's elite liked to eat here. Hank was wearing his best outfit, but the maitre'd still cast his eyes disapprovingly over him as they entered the restaurant. As he showed them to a table, Emma Jane glanced around and saw various people that she knew, pausing in their conversations to look at her. She had never felt so self-conscious in her life.

"Very nice," Hank commented, once they had sat down. He leaned over to her, "Which fork is it for what?"

Emma Jane felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and the beginnings of a headache, "Start from the outside and work in," she advised as the waiter handed them menus. Glancing down at the description of what she knew from experience was delicious cuisine, she found herself feeling slightly nauseous.

"Don't know what half this stuff is," Hank commented. "Don't know why they can't just have it in plain English."

"Just take the meat," she advised, "it was always lovely from what I remember." She shrugged off the shawl she was wearing, "It's rather warm in here, isn't it?"

"Ain't noticed to be honest," Hank replied, putting down his menu and looking at her, "Ya a'right? Ya look a little flushed."

"Just tired," she replied, "It was a long trip back from Boston."

"Your landlady said ya went there but she wouldn't say why?" he said, "In all the excitement, I forgot to ask."

Emma Jane sighed, "Do you remember Carolyn?"

He grinned, "Course."

"Well, when I first arrived at the boarding house, I discovered she was staying there too. I wasn't best pleased as you can imagine, but funnily enough, we became friends. She tried to warn me about the Black Bull, the bar I was working in," she added for his benefit, "It wasn't a great place. Anyway…" she hurried on before he could question her about the bar, "It turned out that she had syphilis," she paused, "she died on Christmas Eve."

"Sorry."

"She wrote a letter to her parents that she wanted me to send to them after she was gone, but…I couldn't bear the thought of them hearing about her death by letter, so I went to Boston to see them myself." She swallowed hard against a lump in her throat, "They were so terribly devastated, Hank, it was awful to see them. I kept thinking about what I would do if it was Victoria."

He reached over and took her hand, "Well it ain't, so stop thinkin' about it."

"She wasn't that much older than me."

"Carolyn made her choice in life, even long before ya came to the saloon." He looked up as the waiter came back, "What we havin'?"

Emma Jane ordered for them both and then turned back to him, "I know, it's just…"

"Well, well, Mrs Lawson," Georgina Bowman's voice filtered towards them, "I didn't expect to see _you _here."

Emma Jane looked up and saw Georgina followed closely by Clara, who looked uncomfortable, "Mrs Bowman, what a pleasant surprise."

"Indeed," Mrs Bowman replied, her eyes moving to Hank, "Won't you introduce me to your companion?"

Emma Jane grit her teeth, "Georgina Bowman, this is Hank Lawson, my husband."

"Pleased to meet you," Hank stood up and offered his hand, but Mrs Bowman just looked at it.

"Charmed I'm sure," she replied.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Lawson," Clara said, taking Hank's hand, "I'm Clara and I'm engaged to Emma Jane's brother, Thomas."

"That's enough, Clara," Mrs Bowman said curtly, "Well, as I was saying, Emma Jane, I wouldn't have thought you would be dining out in the city. Not in your…delicate condition."

"Well, my husband came to see me and we thought it only fitting to come out for dinner," Emma Jane replied as confidently as she could.

"Yes, quite." Mrs Bowman leaned in closer, "You know, my dear, it really isn't the done thing to be parading oneself around town when one is expecting," She straightened back up, "but I suppose we have _you _to thank for Emma Jane's defiant ways, have we not Mr Lawson?"

Hank looked as though he might like to hit the woman, "I don't tell Emma Jane what to do. Got a mind of her own."

"I'm sure she does." Mrs Bowman sniffed disapprovingly, "Well, do enjoy your meal. Come along Clara." With that, they swept away.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Hank demanded loudly.

"Just leave it, Hank," Emma Jane replied, "She's one of the worst kind. She's done nothing but insult me since I came back here," she took a long drink of water, "let's just forget her. We came out for dinner, let's enjoy it."

But Emma Jane didn't. The food _was _delicious, but she could barely taste her. Her head felt so heavy and sore and her limbs were aching even in a seated position. What's more, the pain in her abdomen had increased, no matter how she shifted herself in her seat, it refused to go away. When the meal was over, she watched in amazement as he pulled out a wad of notes to pay for it.

"Where did you…?" she asked.

"Took it from the saloon," he grinned at her.

"Hank…" she protested, "You shouldn't have done that. It's your livelihood."

"_Our _livelihood," he said, taking her hand again, "Can't wait to git ya back there."

"I can't wait to go back," she echoed, "but right now…"

"I know," he interrupted, "Gotta get back to the boardin' house so we can…" he raised his eyebrows at her.

That wasn't quite what Emma Jane had had in mind, but she smiled weakly in response. Getting herself to her feet, she swayed slightly, but Hank didn't notice. They made their way out of the restaurant and back onto the street where Hank hailed one of the carriages.

"Gotta ride in style," he told her as he helped her up.

Emma Jane didn't say anything. She sat in the carriage, her body pressed against her husband's. The feeling of him being near to her was welcome, and she felt deep stirrings of desire, but she still felt so incredibly unwell. The carriage pulled up outside the boarding house and Hank helped her down. They went back into the boarding house where Mrs Kimble was standing at the kitchen door.

"Good night, was it?" she asked.

"Yes," Emma Jane replied quietly.

"See ya in the mornin' then," she said with a knowing smile.

Hank and Emma Jane climbed the stairs to her room and Peter met them at the top.

"Here ya go," he said, handing a sleeping Victoria over.

"Thank you Peter," Emma Jane said, taking her daughter. She opened the door to her room and walked inside.

Hank closed the room door behind him and locked it. Then he turned back to Emma Jane who was putting Victoria down in her bed. The little girl had fallen asleep hours earlier, and she didn't stir at her mother's movement. When she was sure Victoria was properly settled, Emma Jane moved over to the bed and lifted her flannel nightshirt from her pillow. Turning her back on her husband, she started to unbutton the front of her dress, only to be foiled as she was unable to reach the ones at her back.

"Hank, would you mind?" she asked, twisting her head to look at him.

Without saying anything, he walked up behind her and slowly unbuttoned the clasps running down her back to the bottom of her spine. Gently, he eased the dress off of her shoulders, allowing his hands to remain on her bare flesh. Emma Jane shivered slightly at his touch, despite her head and body protesting against any form of intimacy. Hank lowered his head and kissed her right shoulder softly, moving up to her neck and her earlobe. Her dress slipped down over her stomach and fell to the floor, leaving her standing in her maternity underwear.

Hank moved his hands slowly down her arms over her goose-pimpled flesh and over her hips to her stomach, where he gently caressed her bump. Emma Jane found herself leaning back against him, pushing her head right back so he could have access to her neck and then twisting around so he could kiss her on the mouth. She turned in his embrace and their mouths met, hunger demanding to be satisfied. Hank pulled her closer to him, being careful not to crush her too tightly, and Emma Jane found her hands in his hair, pulling his face harder against her own.

He unbuttoned the clips at the back of her underwear and, still with his mouth on hers, pulled it down over her body so that she stood before him naked.

"My nightshirt…" she started to say.

"Ain't gonna need it," he replied hoarsely, lifting her up and carrying her over to the bed. Carefully, he laid her down on it and climbed on beside her.

Instinctively, her hands went to his jacket, pulling it off of him and then her fingers began unbuttoning his shirt. He helped her prise the garment from his body, her hands going immediately to the belt around his waist. She pulled it open and ripped it free from his pants, allowing it to fall over the side of the bed, his gun clattering against the floor. They paused briefly to make sure Victoria hadn't wakened and then continued.

Emma Jane's breathing was coming in heavy bursts as Hank finished removing the last of his clothing. He lay beside her and, putting his hand under her buttocks, shifted her closer to him, fully aware he couldn't lie on top of her.

"Emma…" he groaned softly in her ear before his mouth claimed hers again. His kiss was ravenous and she responded with equal desire, wanting him like she'd never wanted anyone in her life. She whimpered as his hand moved over her full breast and slid down to her stomach. She wanted him to touch her in all the right places, wanted to feel the passionate pleasure she had always felt in his arms, remembering well how they had satisfied their desires even right up until the night before Victoria was born. But her head was still pounding and, through the pleasant sensation of his touch against her skin, Emma Jane couldn't help but feel pain as he brushed her flesh, as though her whole body was crying out for him to stop.

Oblivious to any misgivings she might have, Hank ran his hand down the curve of her bottom, and gently between her legs, causing her to moan. Then he started to turn her over onto her opposite side, knowing this was probably the only position that would be comfortable for both of them.

"No," she breathed, resisting his movement, "I…I can't."

Hank pulled himself up and looked down at her, his pupils dilated with desire, "Ya all right?"

"I don't feel very well," she replied honestly, "It started a few days ago and I think it's getting worse My body aches and my head is pounding and I'm so tired…" she almost wanted to cry out of sheer discomfort and frustration. "It was snowing in Boston and I got soaked and…well…the truth is, the baby's been giving me a hard time recently and I don't think I can…" a tear slipped down her cheek.

"It's a'right," Hank said lovingly, "Ain't nothin' worse if ya ain't up to it."

"I want to," she looked at him, her breathing still rapid, "You must know how much I want to."

Hank stroked her cheek gently, "I know ya do. Can see it in them eyes of yours. It don't matter. We've survived this long, guess we can make it a little longer." He bent and kissed her on the mouth.

She smiled gratefully, "Thank you. Maybe tomorrow…"

"Don't worry bout it," he said, "be better when yer feeling more like it."

"Will you hold me anyway?" she asked.

"Course." She rolled over onto her other side and he pushed himself against her back, "Yer gonna have to put up with it for a minute," he said, "just til it gets over the fact it ain't gonna be goin' anywhere tonight."

"Hank…" Emma Jane tried to be shocked, but she laughed instead. His hand rested on the top of her stomach and she placed her own on top of his. It wasn't long before the events of the last few days caught up with her and she fell asleep.

At first, she thought she might be dreaming. Everything was swirling around and around in her head and she felt as though she was flying through the air. Groggily, she forced her tired eyes open and her gaze rested on Victoria's bed, which seemed to be swaying slightly from side to side. Emma Jane blinked a few times, as if to steady her vision, but it didn't help. She lifted her head from the pillow and pain shot through it and when she pressed her hand to her forehead, she could feel a slight heat. The pain in her abdomen came back with a vengeance and she moaned softly. Hank will still lying, dead to the world, beside her, and she was about to wake him, when an unfamiliar smell hit her nostrils.

Glancing over at the door, she gasped, as she saw smoke seeping slowly under it.


	9. Chapter Nine

"Hank!" Emma Jane gasped, "Hank, wake up!"

"Mmmm…" Hank mumbled in response.

"Hank!" she leaned over and shook him, "Wake up!"

"What the hell…" he declared, rousing himself and looking at her, "Emma Jane, what the hell…"

"Look!" she pointed at the door to the room and the smoke that was continuing to flow under it..

"Hell!" Hank scrambled over her off the bed and started grabbing his clothes, "Git dressed, quick!"

Emma Jane pulled herself off of the bed into a standing position, despite the fact she could barely keep her balance. Pain shot through her again as she reached for her underwear.

"Never mind that!" Hank said, throwing her dress at her, "Just put it on! C'mon, hurry up!"

Emma Jane pulled the dress on over her heavy legs and up over her swollen body. With clumsy fingers she buttoned it awkwardly and then stumbled forward to lift Victoria from her bed.

Hank threw open the door to the hallway and was immediately greeted by thicker smoke. Coughing, he peered out into the landing. The door to Peter and Kevin's room opened and the boys stumbled out.

"Fire!" Peter yelled, "Fire!"

"Git out!" Hank yelled to them, as they started to hurry down the dark stairs, yelling for Mrs Kimble as they did so. He turned back to where Emma Jane was holding Victoria to her, "C'mon, we gotta go!"

Nodding, she followed him out of the room onto the landing and immediately could see nothing for the acrid smoke that filled her eyes and lungs, causing her to cough violently, "Hank!" She groped in front of her, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. Hank held onto her arm with one hand and pulled her along behind him as they made their way to the stairs.

"Peter and Kevin…" she said as they passed the boys' room, "We have to make sure they're safe…"

"They're already out," Hank replied, "Stay close." He started down the stairs, Emma Jane following behind and they met Mrs Kimble at the bottom.

"It's the kitchen!" she gasped, "Fire's in the kitchen! I don't know how it happened, but the kitchen…"

"Ain't got no time to do nothin'" Hank told her, pushing her in front of him, "Gotta get out 'fore we all choke to death."

Emma Jane was fighting hard to breathe against the thick smoke. Her eyes were streaming and every laboured breath brought renewed pain to her body. As they began to make their way along the corridor to the door, the strongest pain yet seared through her abdomen and she cried out.

Hank turned around quickly, "Ya a'right? Ya bump somethin'?"

"No…" she gasped, shaking her head as a hot, wet sensation flowed down her thighs, "Oh God, oh God, Hank, the baby…"

"What?" he looked at her as if she was crazy.

"The baby," she repeated, "I think…ah…" she bent forward, pitching Victoria into her father's arms, and clutched her stomach, "I think…I think the baby's coming!"

"Now!" he exclaimed in disbelief, "Emma Jane ya can't…"

She screamed as another wave of pain hit her and she fell forward onto the floor, "No…" she gasped, "No this isn't right…it's too early…"

"Emma…" Hank crouched down beside her, "Emma ya gotta hold on, ya hear me? Ya can't have the baby here…ya gotta wait til we git out."

Emma Jane whimpered in pain, "I can't…I can't…"

"Emma Jane, ya got to!" Hank pulled her face up to his and saw the fear in her eyes, "Listen to me. Ya gotta keep goin'. We're almost there, see? There's the door!" he pointed ahead of them to the opening where Mrs Kimble was just stumbling out.

"Take Victoria…" Emma Jane gasped, "take her, go on."

"Ain't leavin' ya here!"

"Get her out!" she insisted, "please, get her to safety. Go!" she physically pushed him away from her and moaned again as more pain hit her.

Hank paused for a fraction of a second and then darted for the door carrying Victoria, who was now screaming too. Once outside, he thrust her into Mrs Kimble's arms and was about to run back in when an almighty crash signalled that the roof above the kitchen had caved in.

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Kimble screamed, crushing Victoria to her so that she wouldn't see the flames.

"Git back!" Hank yelled at everyone who was standing looking dumbly at the house, "Git back, quickly!"

They all stepped back hurriedly as thick smoke began to pour out of the roof.

"Ya can't go back in!" Kevin shouted, rushing up beside Hank.

"Gotta get Emma Jane!" Hank responded, knowing he would be damned if he was going to leave her to die. He ran back to the door and back inside to where Emma Jane was hunched on the floor, breathing heavily against the pain and smoke. "Emma….Emma just hold on, ok? Gonna git ya out of here. Can ya stand?"

"I think…" she grabbed onto him for support and he helped her up, "I…ah…" she bent forward again, the whole word seemingly going black around her. "Leave me…" she mumbled, "leave me…"

"Like Hell!" Hank responded viciously, "Didn't come all this way to lose ya now!" Without pausing for thought, he put his arm under her legs and lifted her up into his arms. He ran back to the door and outside, just as the roof above him began to creak under the flames.

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Kimble rushed up, "Oh Emma Jane! Is she a'right?"

"Don't know," Hank replied, putting her down gently on the ground, "Think the baby's comin'."

"But she's not due yet!"

"I know!" he replied, "Emma…Emma, can ya hear me?"

Emma Jane's eyelids were fluttering and a low moan escaped from her throat. She couldn't find the strength to open her eyes, her whole body ached and felt as though it was on fire.

"Gotta git her somewhere…" Hank was saying.

"Oh Lord," Mrs Kimble's voice was shocked, "That ain't birth fluid, that's blood!"

Hank looked down and saw to his horror that it was indeed blood that was flowing down Emma Jane's legs. He only remembered one other time he had seen such a thing and that had been when she had lost the baby over ten years earlier. "Is she losin' it?" he asked Mrs Kimble fearfully.

The other woman shook her head, "Don't know."

"Gotta git her somewhere," he repeated, glancing around as if for inspiration, "Her folks! Peter!" he yelled to the younger boy.

"What is it?" he asked, running up, "Is Miss Emma Jane a'right?"

"Go git a carriage. Tell it to hurry up. Quick!" Hank yelled at him. As Peter ran off up the street, he hugged his wife close to him, "Yer gonna be ok, Emma, yer gonna be ok." As he spoke, there was another almighty crash and the entire roof of the building caved in.

"My house!" Mrs Kimble wailed. "Oh my Lord…"

Hank followed her gaze, unable to believe they had all made it out alive. After what seemed like forever, Peter reappeared, followed by a carriage. When the driver pulled up, he looked at the building and gasped. Then he looked at the small group with suspicion, "Ain't takin' ya all."

"Just us," Hank said, "Here…" he handed Emma Jane to Kevin, jumped up into the carriage and then took her back. Mrs Kimble then handed Victoria up to him. Hank gave the driver the address of Emma Jane's parents' house and the carriage sped off, leaving the others staring after it. As the streets flashed by, Hank held Emma Jane on his lap, gently stroking her fevered face, "C'mon Emma, hang on."

When they reached the house, the driver jumped down and ran around to the side of the carriage, "Can I help?"

"Take her," Hank replied, gently handing Emma Jane out of the carriage.

"I…"

"Take her!" he repeated violently, causing Victoria to start screaming again. He lifted his daughter out and then jumped out behind her, taking Emma Jane from the driver, "Bring Victoria!" he instructed as he hurried up the steps to the front door and rang the bell loudly. "C'mon, c'mon," he said before starting to bang on it, "Open up!"

After a moment, the door swung open and Mr Brown appeared, "What on earth…"

"Emma Jane's sick," Hank interrupted, "Ya gotta let me in." He pushed past his father-in-law into the house.

"What's happened?" Mr Brown demanded, taking his granddaughter from the bemused driver, "What's wrong?"

"There was a fire at the boardin' house," Hank explained, "Emma Jane…I think she's losin' the baby, ya gotta get a doctor." He looked down at the blood that was dripping onto the wooden floor and then helplessly at Mr Brown.

"Hank?" Thomas appeared on the stairs, "What…oh my God, Emma…" he rushed forward, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's bleedin', Thomas. Please," Hank begged, " ya gotta get the doctor."

"Bring her up to her room," Thomas replied, "Helen!" he shouted to the maid who had just appeared, "Get Doctor O'Neil, quickly! This way!" he led the way up the stairs, Hank following in close pursuit. They dashed along the corridor and he threw open the door to Emma Jane's room.

Hank rushed in and put her gently down on the bed, "Emma Jane…" he pushed her hair away from her damp forehead, "She's got a fever."

"Oh my God," Thomas caught sight of the blood, "Oh, Emma…"

"What on earth is happening here?" Mrs Brown appeared at the door, "What have you done to my daughter?" she asked Hank angrily.

"Ain't done nothin'," he replied, "somethin's wrong with her. Think she might be losin' the baby. Emma, can ya hear me," he crouched down next to her, "Emma, look at me."

Emma Jane forced her eyes open, but her vision was blurry and she could barely see, "Hank…?"

"I'm here, darlin', I'm here," he replied, "Yer a'right, yer gonna be a'right." He looked anxiously at Thomas, "Where's the doctor?"

"He's coming," Thomas replied, "it won't be long."

"Thomas, out," Mrs Brown declared, "this is no place for you."

"Mother…"

"Out, now. Tell Cook to get water and towels for the doctor." Reluctantly Thomas rose, "I'd ask you to leave also Mr Lawson if I thought for one moment you would heed my request."

Hank looked at her, "Ain't goin' nowhere."

"Yes, I can see that." Mrs Brown came over to the bed and put her hand against her daughter's forehead, "She's burning up."

"Mother…" Emma Jane said weakly.

"Hush," her mother replied, "save your strength. You're going to need it."

A few moments later, Doctor O'Neil arrived, looking rather dishevelled and sleepy. "What do we have here?" he said as he came in and shrugged off his jacket.

"She's got a fever and she's bleedin'," Hank said worriedly, "she gonna be a'right?"

Doctor O'Neil pressed his hand against Emma Jane's forehead and throat and then her stomach, a movement which caused her to cry out. Then he lifted her skirts and looked at her abdomen. "She's in labour," he declared.

"But…but it's too early," Hank replied, "She can't have the baby now, can she?"

"The chances of the baby surviving at this early stage are slim," Doctor McNeil replied, "Usually I would say that a young, healthy woman like Emma Jane would stand a fighting chance of delivering successfully, but with the complications…"

"What complications?" Hank asked, panicked.

The doctor looked at him seriously, "She has influenza."

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Brown exclaimed, "Oh no!"

"Mrs Brown, have your family had the illness?"

"Yes. There was an outbreak a few years ago, but…" She remembered Lydia's death, "Emma Jane wasn't here." She looked at Hank, "Has she had it in that Godforsaken place?" Hank shook his head. There had been an outbreak in the town, but Emma Jane had already gone.

"Have you had it?" Doctor O'Neil asked him. Hank nodded, "What about your child?"

"No," he looked at Mrs Brown, "Victoria ain't had it."

"I'll see to her," Mrs Brown left the room as Helen appeared with a bowl of water and some towels.

"What about the people at the boardin' house?" Hank asked.

"I'll have Thomas send Helen," Doctor O'Neil replied, "if they've been exposed they'll need treatment. We don't want an epidemic on our hands." He gently sponged down Emma Jane's face and neck and then handed the cloth to Hank, "I need you to keep doing this. We have to try and get her fever down."

"What about the baby?"

"She's having contractions, which indicate that the baby is coming, but she's also haemorrhaging quite badly," he replied, "and…" he was cut off by Emma Jane letting out another cry of pain and writhing on the bed, "All right, Emma Jane, all right. The baby's big for its age," he continued, listening to her stomach with his stethoscope, "it might have a chance."

"Hank…" Emma Jane gasped again, "Hank…"

"I'm here," he told her, gently wiping away the sweat on her face, "Ain't gonna leave ya. Ain't never gonna leave ya again."

SSSS

The time seemed to drag on with endless bouts of Emma Jane screaming in pain and Hank trying desperately to keep her fever down. Every time he pressed the cold cloth to her face, however, the fever came back with a vengeance. The sweat was pouring off her body and her dress was pulled down almost to the top of her chest.

"Can't we take it off?" Hank had asked, but Mrs Brown had stepped in.

"Absolutely not!" she had declared, "it's not decent!"

"She's havin' a baby!" Hank had shouted at her, "Ain't like anybody's gonna see her!"

"Yes well, I'm sure over the years you've made sure that Emma Jane has lost all sense of what is right and decent!"

"Please, please!" Doctor O'Neil had said, "This is not helping anyone, least of all Emma Jane."

If he could have, Hank would have ripped her dress off right then and there. Anything, if it could have helped her. "How much longer?" he asked.

Doctor O'Neil looked up from where he had been examining Emma Jane's abdomen again, "It shouldn't be much longer," he said, "She's close."

"Mr Lawson, I think it's time you left," Mrs Brown said curtly from where she had been hovering in the corner.

"What?"

"You should wait downstairs."

Hank looked at the doctor, "Ain't gonna leave her."

Doctor O'Neil put his hand on Hank's shoulder, "Husbands don't usually witness the birth of their children."

"Can't leave her…" he protested, "Can't leave her by herself."

"I'll be here," Mrs Brown said, "I'll look after her."

"Ya don't give a damn about her!" Hank spat, "Ya cast her out like she was dead to ya!"

"Mr Lawson…"

"Only person cared about her these last few years is me! Ya ain't done nothin' fer her!"

"By God, she is still my daughter," Mrs Brown replied, "My only daughter. I've already lost one and I'm not about to stand back and lose another!" Hank was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

Doctor O'Neil smiled gently, "Mr Lawson, it really would be in Emma Jane's best interest if you were to wait downstairs. I promise you'll be informed the moment anything happens."

Hank was unconvinced, but he kissed Emma Jane quickly on the cheek and then rose from where he had been sitting and headed for the door. Glancing back, he watched as Mrs Brown took his place and continued sponging down her daughter's face and neck. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Downstairs, Mr Brown and Thomas was hovering in the parlour and they looked up quickly as Hank approached.

"Is she all right?" Thomas asked fearfully.

Hank shook his head, "Don't know. Doc says she's close to her time, but the influenza's makin' it harder." He accepted the glass of whiskey Mr Brown held out to him.

"She's a fighter," Mr Brown said, "if anyone can get through this, Emma Jane can."

Thomas looked wistfully into his own glass, "It was influenza that killed Lydia."

SSSS

Two hours later, as dawn began to break over the city, Emma Jane was still struggling in labour. With Victoria, it had seemed so easy. A few short hours and Charlotte's gentle words, and she had been a mother. This time, however, it felt as though her baby was tearing at her very insides. Her vision was blurred by the heat from her fever and she could barely speak, her throat was so dry.

"Have some water," Mrs Brown lifted her daughter's head and held up a glass for her to drink from, "that's it." Emma Jane slumped back down in the bed, "You're doing very well, darling."

"Mother…" Emma Jane gasped, gripping onto her mother's hand as another contraction took hold, "Mother…I…I can't…"

"Yes you can, Emma Jane," Mrs Brown urged her, "Yes you can, come on."

"Emma Jane, I need you to push," Doctor O'Neil said from his position between her legs.

Through the mist of fever and fog, Emma Jane felt an immense pressure in her abdomen and she pushed down as hard as her body would let her, "I…can't!"

"Yes, yes you can," Mrs Brown repeated, "Come on, Emma Jane, push!"

"No…" she started to sob, "I can't! Mother…Mother…I don't want to die. Please, I don't want to die…"

"You're not going to die, Emma Jane, you're not going to die."

"Push, Emma Jane, come on," Doctor O'Neil said.

Emma Jane bore down as hard as she could, remembering that this was nothing like what had happened when she had given birth to Victoria, "Victoria…"

"She's fine," Mrs Brown said, " She's absolutely fine. You have to think about _this _baby, Emma Jane."

Emma Jane screamed again as the pain continued to shoot through her, "Please…please…"

"That's it, Emma Jane, that's it," Doctor O'Neil said, "you're almost there, come on. One more push!" She pushed down hard again and felt a slippery sensation as her baby came sliding out. "There we go, there we go!"

The baby let out a pathetic cry and then was silent.

"It's a boy, Emma Jane," Doctor O'Neil said, "You've had a boy."

Emma Jane couldn't speak, she was so exhausted. Mrs Brown gently sponged her face again, "Well done, darling, well done." She glanced over at the doctor, "Is he all right?"

Doctor O'Neil was busy wiping blood from the baby, "He's weak," he replied grimly, "but he's alive."

"The…baby…" Emma Jane gasped.

"He's alive, Emma Jane," her mother said, "he's alive."

"A…a boy…" Mrs Brown nodded, "Hank…"

"I'll tell him," Mrs Brown promised, glancing over at the doctor again who was busy examining Emma Jane's abdomen, "Is she all right?"

He looked grim, "Well she's not bleeding any more." He washed his hands quickly and put his hand back on her forehead, "but her fever's still very high." He paused, "I just need to deliver the afterbirth but…I think you should fetch her husband immediately."

Mrs Brown understood his meaning and, prising her hand from her daughter's grip, she left the room and made her way downstairs to where the men were waiting.

Hank, who had been pacing downstairs, looked up sharply at the sound of her footsteps and rushed over to her."

"You have a son, Mr Lawson," Mrs Brown said.

Hank let out a shaky breath as Thomas clapped him on the shoulder, "Emma Jane…?"

Mrs Brown looked grave, "You should come upstairs."

"What's wrong?" he picked up on her uncertainty.

"Come upstairs," Mrs Brown repeated.

Hank followed her upstairs, his heart pounding with every step. When he entered the bedroom, he saw Doctor O'Neil holding a small bundle, but his attention was taken by the sight of Emma Jane still lying on the bed, her body still racked with fever. He hurried over to her, "Emma…" he crouched down beside her and took her hand.

She looked at him through wet eyes, "Hank…the baby…it's a boy…"

"I know," he replied, "Ya did real well."

"Mr Lawson, would you like to hold your son?" Doctor O'Neil asked.

Hank nodded and went over to take the small bundle from the doctor, "He's real small," he commented, looking down at the pale little face.

"He's very premature," Doctor O'Neil said, "and weak," he looked at Hank, "the next few hours will be crucial. I'm afraid we need to keep him away from Emma Jane. Mrs Brown…? Mrs Brown came forward and took the baby from Hank. "If you put him in one of the other rooms, I'll come through and check on him." Mrs Brown nodded and left the room with the baby. Doctor O'Neil turned back to Hank, "Mr Lawson…"

"She's gonna be ok, right Doc?" Hank asked, glancing back at the bed, "I mean, she's gonna pull through this."

Doctor O'Neil licked his lips and took a deep breath, "Mr Lawson…your wife is very weak. The birth took a tremendous amount out of her and her condition has been made worse by the influenza. Right now, her body is trying to adjust to having given birth, but the fever is hindering that adjustment. She also lost a lot of blood in the delivery."

"But, she's gonna be ok, though, right? I mean, ya can cure her." Hank searched his face desperately.

"I can give you no guarantees, Mr Lawson," Doctor O'Neil said, "as I said, she and your son are both very weak." He paused, "It may be prudent for you to prepare yourself for the worst."

"Ya sayin'…I'm gonna lose her?" Hank's voice shook slightly.

"I'm afraid there is every possibility that we could lose both of them."

Hank stared at him, almost uncomprehendingly, not wanting to admit to any possibility of losing Emma Jane, or the child.

"Hank…?" her weak voice floated towards him from the bed, "Hank…?"

He rushed over to her side, "I'm here, Emma, I'm here."

"Hank…" she looked up at him through fevered eyes, her hair sticking to her neck with the sweat of the fever. She held out her hand and he took it in his, wincing at the heat that flowed from it. "I…I need you to promise me something."

"Anythin'."

"I know…I know I'm dying…I can feel it…"

"No ya ain't!" he refuted her strongly, "Ya ain't dying, Emma Jane, don't talk like that!"

She blinked slowly, "Hank…" it broke her heart to say it, "if I don't make it…"

"Yer gonna be fine!"

"Please…" she begged breathlessly, "please…if I don't make it, promise me that you'll look after Victoria…and the baby…both of them…they'll need you."

Hank set his jaw, determined, he wasn't going to cry, "Ain't gonna promise that cause it ain't gonna happen."

"Please," she repeated, "I can't…without knowing that you will…please, promise me."

Hank looked down at her flushed face, her eyes full of tears, her body breathing with great effort. He couldn't lose her, not now, not after everything. Yet he couldn't deny her request.

"I promise, Emma…" he said, kissing her hand, "I promise."

She smiled with a sense of relief, "Thank you…thank you…" she closed her eyes again.

"I love ya Emma," Hank said, his voice breaking with emotion, "Please, please don't leave me, not now, please." He bent and kissed her burning forehead, "Please…" he whispered, turning his eyes to the ceiling, searching for a God he wasn't even sure he believed existed, "Please, please don't take her."

Doctor O'Neil closed the bedroom door behind him as he left to go and check on the baby. It was always tragic when a woman died in childbirth. Always tragic.

Next chapter coming soon!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Well, we're in a bit of Dr Mike's Dream territory here, but I hope no-one minds! I couldn't resist! Please keep reading and reviewing, I take note of and appreciate all your comments. And feel free to criticise too!**

Emma Jane felt as though she was being pulled upwards, out of her bed and into the sky. The feeling started in her chest, a dragging sensation that seemed to pull against the natural resistance of her body and then spread to her arms, legs and head until eventually, she felt a rush of air and entered into a bright light. For a moment, she floated, not sure where she was or what was happening. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. As she floated, she felt incredibly calm and peaceful and, whats more, not ill at all. She was just getting used to the sensation when she felt a sudden jolt and she landed in a heap on the ground.

Wincing, she pulled herself into a sitting position and rubbed her neck. Then, she pulled herself to her feet and froze in horror. She was standing in her own bedroom, looking at her bed, looking at herself. There she was, lying, breathing laboriously; sweat pouring off of her body. Hank was by her side, gently wiping her face down, whispering words she couldn't understand.

"Hank…?" she spoke his name, but he gave no sign that he had heard her, "Hank, it's me," she said again, but there was still no answer.

"You always have to copy me, don't you Emma Jane?" a familiar voice from behind, caused her to start and turn around quickly, "First you get married like me, then you have children like me, now you're dying like me. And of the same disease too."

Emma Jane's heart was pounding as a figure emerged from the shadows in front of her. It was a face she had never expected to see again, a person whose grave she had stood at two long years earlier.

"Lydia?" she gasped in disbelief.

Her sister stepped forward and looked at her reproachfully, "Who else?"

"But…but you're…" Emma Jane couldn't find the right words.

"Yes, Emma Jane, I'm dead," Lydia replied acerbically, "though it pains me to be reminded." She glanced over at the figure of her sister in the bed, "You don't look so good, do you?"

Emma Jane followed her gaze, "Am I…?"

"No, you're not dead. Not yet anyway," Lydia replied, "but, you're sick. Very sick." She looked at Hank, "I suppose he loves you. He looks as though he does."

Emma Jane watched as Hank kissed her hand again, tears visible on his cheeks, "Hank…" she whispered.

"Oh he can't hear you," Lydia replied, "It's quite fun actually. I often visit Arthur and wave my hands in front of his face and shout in his ear and he never even stirs," she laughed, "death does have its advantages."

Emma Jane swallowed hard, "I don't want to die."

"Neither did I," Lydia replied, "neither do most people. But sometimes, we don't get a choice." She looked at her sister thoughtfully, "but you're not happy. Maybe death would be a blessing for you."

"Lydia, that's a terrible thing to say," another familiar voice came out of the shadows, "Don't listen to her, Emma Jane."

Emma Jane was too busy trying to stop herself from fainting as an old friend appeared in front of her, "Abigail?"

Abigail smiled. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"I…I don't know what to say. I've missed you so much over the years," Emma Jane confessed, "I always hated myself for not being with you when you died."

"Huh!" Lydia moaned, "You didn't say that to _me._ I'm so sorry my funeral prevented you from being there."

"I didn't mean that," Emma Jane replied quickly, "I just meant…" she sighed as she looked at Abigail, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Abigail replied, "I'm not. I wouldn't have liked you to witness it." She gestured behind her and a little girl came toddling out towards them, "This is Hannah," she said, picking her up.

"She looks just like you," Emma Jane remarked. "Sully misses you terribly."

Abigail smiled, "I know, but he seems to have found a friend, a good friend, in Doctor Quinn." Emma Jane was reluctant to say that it might be more than that. "I know that he and Pa haven't been on the best of terms with each other, or with you."

Emma Jane sighed, "Your father blames me and Sully for what happened to you. Although I think I may have mended a few bridges with Loren."

"This is all very moving," Lydia piped up from behind, "but there are more pressing matters at hand."

Emma Jane turned back around to look at her sister, "Such as?"

Lydia gestured to where Emma Jane was lying, "Such as the fact you're dying in front of us?" She sighed, "Honestly, your head always was somewhere else."

"A lot of things have happened to me over the last few years, Lydia," Emma Jane shot back, "Not all of them good."

"I know," her sister replied, "We know what happened to you."

"You do?"

Lydia nodded, "It was terrible, and I'm sorry. No matter how much of a heathen you've become, you didn't deserve that."

Emma Jane looked at her sister in disbelief. It was the most emotion Lydia had ever shown towards her. Then a thought struck her, "Do you know who fathered my baby?"

"Well…" Lydia began.

"Lydia." Abigail said warningly, "You know the rules."

"Rules? What rules?" Emma Jane demanded.

"We can't tell you things about the future," Abigail said gently. "Otherwise you wouldn't choose your own path."

"It's not really a future event though," Lydia argued, "It's a present event."

"No," Abigail said firmly, "I'm sorry." She smiled at Emma Jane again, "Your son's very beautiful."

"I wouldn't know," Emma Jane replied, "I haven't seen him."

"Oh you must!" Abigail said, and in a rush of air, they were standing in the next room watching as Doctor O'Neil and Mrs Brown looked after the baby.

"He's still very weak," the doctor was saying, removing his stethoscope, "His lungs haven't fully matured and I'm not sure he's getting enough oxygen in his blood."

"Will he live?" Mrs Brown asked.

"I can't be sure. He needs nourishment and Emma Jane can't give him that. Do you have any cow or goats milk?"

"Cook may have some," Mrs Brown replied. "I'll ask her." She looked down at her grandson, "He looks like Emma Jane. He has her eyes."

"Please," Emma Jane whispered, "please let him survive." She turned to her companions, "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"_You _certainly can't do anything," Lydia replied, "You're neither here nor there."

"So what can _you _do?" Emma Jane asked.

"Nothing."

"You must be able to do something!"

"Emma Jane," Abigail said gently, "we're not high-powerful beings. We're spirits, we have no power over life and death. We're only here to guide and comfort you."

"Before what?" Emma Jane felt tears of frustration gathering, "Before I die? Before _he _dies?" She gestured to her son, "What is the point of this?"

"The point is to make you see things clearly," Lydia explained, "Allow you to make your own mind up about your path."

"Lydia, for once in you Goddamn life, speak sense!" Emma Jane declared angrily, causing Lydia to start.

"There's no need to shout," she replied huffily, "it's not _my _fault you're in this mess."

"I'm sorry," Emma Jane took a deep breath, "but I don't understand."

"You can choose where you go from here," Abigail said, "Decide whether you made the right decision all those years ago."

"I still don't…"

"You chose to go to Colorado Springs with Hank," she explained, "that's something you can't change. You can't change what's already been. But you can change the future."

"You can be with Hank, or without Hank," Lydia chipped in.

Emma Jane looked at them curiously, "But I love him, he's the father of my children. Why would I not want to be with him?"

Lydia and Abigail exchanged glances, "There's a few things you should see," the former said.

Before Emma Jane could speak, there was a strong gust of wind and she found herself standing in a street she knew oh so well. It was the main street in Colorado Springs and when she looked round, she could see all the old familiar places that she held so dear. Things looked a little different, however. For one thing, the saloon looked bigger and it had a sign above it proclaiming it was 'The Gold Nugget.'

"What is this?" she turned to where Abigail and Lydia were standing, "this doesn't look like the saloon."

"Bigger and better," Abigail replied, "Jake and Hank went into business together and opened a hotel at the saloon."

"Business?" Emma Jane looked incredulous, "When?"

"Around 1871."

"Can I go inside?"

Abigail looked grave, "Only if you want to."

"Of course I do!" Emma Jane exclaimed, "I want to see it!" She rushed forward to the door and was about to push it open when she felt herself falling through it and emerging on the other side. The place was thronging with people. Some sitting drinking and talking, others milling around and going up and down the stairs at the far end. She looked around her, unable to believe it, and then she saw Hank serving behind the bar. "Hank…" he looked up and grinned and at first, Emma Jane thought he had seen her, but then, to her utter amazement, an exact replica of herself walked past her and over to the bar. "What…?"

"It's you," Lydia pointed out helpfully, "Well, the future you."

Emma Jane followed herself over to the bar, in time to hear the conversation.

"Hey," Hank was saying, "Lookin' mighty pretty tonight, Mrs Lawson."

"Stop it!" she heard herself reply, "Honestly. What do you want?"

"Nothin'! Can't a man call his wife pretty without wantin' something?"

"Not when that man's Hank Lawson."

Hank leaned over the bar and pulled her towards him for a kiss, "Taste pretty good too," he said.

Emma Jane watched herself push him away, "Where are the children?"

"Victoria's at Grace's Café with Sam," Hank raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" Emma Jane heard herself reply, "Sounds as if they're getting serious. That's been every day this week."

"Yeah well, she is the prettiest girl in Colorado Springs," Hank replied, "after her Ma that is."

"What about Will?"

"Will?" Emma Jane turned to Lydia, "Is that my son's name?"

She nodded, "Dreadfully common, but what can I say?"

Emma Jane turned back to the conversation.

"Upstairs," Hank replied, his smile slipping slightly, "Wasn't feelin' too good earlier."

"I'm worried about him, Hank," Emma Jane heard herself say. "His cough's been getting much worse. Sometimes he can barely speak his breathing is so laboured."

"I know," Hank responded, "You talked to Michaela?"

"She says there's nothing she can do except try and help him if he gets a bad attack. Maybe I should have taken Mother up on her offer to have him to stay in New York."

"And be in all that smoke and fog?" Hank replied, "He's better out here, in the fresh air."

"You're right," Emma Jane heard herself say.

"Course I am," Hank grinned again, "Ain't I always?"

Emma Jane looked at her companions, "So my son's going to be ill?"

"He has medical problems, yes," Lydia replied.

Emma Jane sighed, "Well, as long as we're together and we have Michaela on hand to help, I don't see why everything shouldn't work out fine." She watched as Lydia and Abigail exchanged looks, "What is it?"

"It's not that simple, Emma Jane," Abigail replied.

"What do you mean?" In the next instant, the scene changed and Emma Jane found herself standing in the middle of the saloon, but in a much different atmosphere. The place was deserted, with no customers at all. When she looked at the windows, the shutters were drawn, though she could tell it was daylight outside. "What's happened?" she asked.

"Upstairs, Emma Jane," Abigail replied softly.

Emma Jane looked towards the flight of stairs and made her way slowly over. As she climbed each step, she felt her heart pounding with fear, worrying about what she might find when she reached the top. By some instinct when she did, she seemed to know exactly which way to go, and when she pushed open the first door, she saw someone lying on a bed, crying. As she moved closer, she realised it was herself. She looked down at herself, knowing in her heart why she was crying and yet not wanting to give voice to it.

"Please God, no," she whispered.

At that moment, the door to the room opened again and Emma Jane gasped as a young woman who could only be Victoria came in. She was unmistakable with her long blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of Hank. "Ma?" She hurried over to the bed, "Ma, please don't cry." She sat down next to her mother and put her arm around her, "Please don't cry, Ma."

Emma Jane watched herself lift her head and was shocked by the red eyes and tear-stained face. "Victoria…" she heard herself moan.

"I'm here, Ma," Victoria replied. "Don't worry, I'm here."

"It's just so unfair. Will…"

"I know, Ma, I know."

"He was just a child…" Emma Jane heard her own voice break again, "He was my child…"

She whirled around to face Lydia and Abigail, "No, this can't be right. Please, please tell me this isn't going to happen. I can't bear it!"

"Your son was very sick, Emma Jane," Abigail replied sympathetically, "It's a miracle he survived to the age of sixteen."

"Sixteen!" Emma Jane exclaimed, "No that's too young, it can't be right!"

"It was his time…"

"Don't say that!" Emma Jane screamed, "You can't believe that! You can't believe it was your time, or Hannah's, or Lydia's…" she gestured to her silent sister, "You can't believe that, surely!"

"It's not fair, I know," Abigail said, "maybe if things had been different…"

"Different? Different how?"

"This is but one path, Emma Jane," Lydia stepped forward, "there is another."

"I don't understand," Emma Jane replied, "Are you saying there's a way that I could save my son?"

"Yes."

"Then show me it. Please, I need to see it!"

"As long as you're sure," Abigail said.

"Of course I am!" Emma Jane insisted, "Let me see it!"

There was another sudden burst of wind and she suddenly found herself standing the hallway of the grandest house she had ever laid eyes on. The floors were covered with the most expensive of carpets, the furniture all looked as though it belonged in a palace and above her head, there was a crystal chandelier. As she looked around, the sound of laughter came from a nearby room and she walked towards it, curious. Opening the door, she entered into a huge dining room, with a long table in the centre, at which sat the cream of New York society, though markedly aged. She scanned the faces, recognising some and not others and gasped in shock when she saw herself sitting at the head of the table wearing an exquisite blue gown.

"Well naturally I told Frank that there was no point in having the blue unless we were going to have the green too. And he agreed!" she heard herself say. The table descended into laughter, "I do have the most wonderful husband." Emma Jane followed her own gaze and looked at the man sitting at the opposite end. He was extremely good looking, with dark wavy hair and eyes.

He raised his glass to her, "And I the most beautiful wife."

"Here, here!" someone chimed in.

Emma Jane walked slowly along the side of the table to where she saw herself sitting and picked up on the conversation that was beginning between herself and what looked suspiciously like Clara Bowman.

"My dear Emma Jane," Clara was saying, "Have you and Frank decided which part of Europe you're going to visit this summer?"

Emma Jane saw herself put her wine glass down, "Frank thought about Paris, but Victoria has her heart set on Milan. She wants to see what the Italian designers are creating this season. Honestly, she's got more dresses than I do!"

Clara laughed, "I'm surprised Victoria wants to go to Europe at all. Thomas and I were under the impression she was very keen on that young Drake Edwards."

"Oh she is, she is," Emma Jane heard herself say, "But I believe she's trying your trick by running away to Europe for three months, in the hope that he'll be just as besotted with her on her return." She looked down the table and Emma Jane followed her gaze, gasping as her eyes rested on the same Victoria she had seen at the saloon.

"My trick?" Clara laughed gamely, "It's your trick too, my dear. I seem to remember you keeping dear Frank hanging on for your affections."

"And he was well worth it," Emma Jane heard herself say, "he really is the sweetest man." Her smile faded, "I received a letter from Hank this morning."

Clara's eyes widened, "What did it say?"

"He wanted to know whether I had given any more thought to Victoria and Will spending the summer with him in Colorado Springs."

"And?"

"I really don't know. I know Victoria's looking forward to going to Europe, and I doubt very much she would choose to go back there. As for Will, well he seems quite taken with the idea of holidaying with Henry Fuller and his family this summer at their house in Connecticut. I wouldn't want to deprive him of that."

Emma Jane spun around to look at Lydia and Abigail, "This isn't me!" she insisted, "and it's not my children either! They would never shun their father, never, and neither would I!"

"You have to admit," Lydia said, looking at Emma Jane's husband," Frank Williams _is_ quite a catch."

Emma Jane didn't reply, for her future self was speaking again, "I really don't think I would trust him with them any more. I suppose I've only realised since I've been married to Frank just how…rough a person he really was. It's taken a lot of effort to bring them up in New York society and I don't want Hank to undo all my hard work by having them live in the saloon."

"No!" Emma Jane declared loudly, "That's not true, it's not!" She looked at the grown up version of her child, "None of this is real, it can't be!"

"It's a vision of what could be, that's all," Abigail said.

"But this isn't my life!" Emma Jane said, "I don't belong in this…this palace. I belong in the saloon, home in Colorado Springs, with Hank!"

"You just think that because you've known nothing else for so long," Lydia said, "but with Frank, you can have every luxury you've ever wanted. And Will and Victoria will want for nothing either. They'll mix in the right circles and Drake Edwards is _very _suitable."

"But…"

"There's more to see yet," Lydia said.

With another great gust of air, Emma Jane found herself standing in yet another room. This one was just as opulent, but the view from the window indicated that they were on a ship. She could see the ocean stretching out in front of her like a vast blue blanket.

"Where are we?" she turned back to Lydia and Abigail.

"The _Valiant_," Lydia replied knowingly, "Only the most elegant cruise liner in the world."

"Why are we here?"

"You're on your way to Italy of course," Lydia tutted, "Emma Jane, you really must keep up."

The door to the room opened suddenly and Emma Jane saw herself enter with Victoria. They were both laughing heartily and sat down on the cream coloured chaise longue in the centre of the room.

"That was such fun!" Victoria was saying, "I've never seen anything quite like it! And how lucky we were to be invited to sit at the Captain's table!"

"Well, Frank does have some uses," Emma Jane heard herself say, "That Mr Bonnington was quite handsome, don't you think?"

Victoria blushed, "I suppose."

"And he was looking at you quite favourably."

"Mother," Victoria sighed in exasperation, "You know how I feel about Drake. I couldn't possibly contemplate anyone else."

"Yes, yes, I know. I just want you to be sure before you accept his inevitable proposal."

"I am sure. I'm as sure as you were the day you accepted Frank."

"You were six, my darling, I doubt you remember it."

"I remember how happy you were," Victoria said knowingly, "as if you'd waited your whole life for him."

"I suppose I had."

"Will was rather naughty almost tripping that waiter up."

"Yes he was. I shall be having words with him later."

The door opened again and Frank and Will entered, "My dear," the former exclaimed, "We were just wondering where you had run off to." He planted a kiss on her cheek, "Dinner was wonderful, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was. Although you, young man," Emma Jane watched herself chastise her son, "Your behaviour was questionable."

"It was just a joke, Mother," Will replied good-naturedly, "I've got to have some amusement on board this floating hotel."

"Well I'm sorry if you're bored, but it's not our fault that Henry came down with influenza," Emma Jane heard herself say, "I've had it, and it's not pleasant. I want you to stay away from him for as long as possible."

"Yes Mother," Will sighed, "Whatever you say…"

"I don't want to see any more," Emma Jane said, tears forming in her eyes, "I don't know this Frank, I don't love him! I don't want any of this! I don't understand why you're showing me this!"

"But you're going to Italy!" Lydia declared, "_I _never made it to Italy."

"Then _you_ have this life!" Emma Jane said, "Because I don't want it. Abigail…" she pleaded with her friend, "I want to be with Hank, please…"

Abigail looked at her wistfully, "Here, as Lydia said, the children will have everything they want."

"All they want are me and Hank! That's all they need!" Emma Jane yelled, "I don't understand why you're showing me a life without Hank and all this…this grandeur!"

"Emma Jane," Lydia stepped forward seriously, "Don't you see? Don't you understand?"

"No, I don't!"

"If you choose this life, if you choose to be with Frank, then Will lives. But if you choose to be with Hank…" She trailed off.

Emma Jane's eyes widened in horror, "You can't mean that. You can't mean that. Abigail…" she turned, "Abigail, she can't mean that, can she?"

Abigail's eyes were full of pity, "Emma Jane, with the best will in the world, the new frontier can't provide the same care for a sick child that New York can. You said so yourself when I died that if Colorado Springs had had a real doctor…"

"But we do! We have Michaela!"

"It's not enough. Will needs the best care."

"Then, I'll bring him to New York when he gets sick," Emma Jane said, "I'll make sure he gets the best medical attention."

Abigail shook her head, "It may be too late."

"No!" Emma Jane screamed, "No, this isn't going to happen! I won't let it!" She stamped her foot furiously, "My son is _not _going to die and I am going to be with Hank!"

"Emma Jane…" Lydia stepped forward, but her sister tried to shake her off, "Emma Jane!" She pulled her round to face her, "Life isn't always fair. I should know that, Abigail should know that. We're dead! We've already left our families, our children and we had no choice! You have a choice to save your son and you have to take it!"

"I can't," Emma Jane sobbed, "I can't choose, you can't make me choose."

"You're right," Lydia continued, "We can't make you choose, we can only guide you towards the best path. Staying in New York and marrying Frank is the best path."

"I can't believe that, I _won't _believe that," Emma Jane protested. She turned back to Abigail, "You had a good life ahead of you. You had Martin. You were going to marry him and live at the store with your parents. But you chose Sully. You followed your heart and you chose Sully. Can you honestly tell me now that you regret it? That you wish you hadn't married him?"

Abigail lowered her eyes, "No."

"Then surely you can understand why I want to be with Hank!"

"This is different," Abigail said, "there was no child at stake in my situation."

"What about Hannah?"

"If I could have saved her, I would have. I died hoping to give her life," Abigail, "and I failed. You can succeed. All you have to do is give Hank up."

"I won't," Emma Jane said, "I've spent the last six months miserable without him. I belong with him, we belong together. I'm not giving that up on a maybe. I'll take care of Will, I swear, and I'll do everything I can to save him. But I'd rather he have sixteen years with Hank and I, than a lifetime of this!" she swung her arm around, "Maybe you think that's wrong, but I don't care. Maybe you think that money and parties and _suitable _men are what's important, but it's not. It's love and family and being together and we can give our children that! I want to be with Hank!"

Abigail and Lydia exchanged glances, "If that's what you want…" the latter said.

"It is," Emma Jane replied resolutely.

"Then that is the path you take," Abigail said, "when you wake up, follow your heart, stay with Hank. But you'll only have a small window of opportunity if you wish to change your mind. Once it's gone, you can't ever go back."

Emma Jane nodded, "I understand."

Abigail smiled at her, "I wish you well, I really do."

"Just remember, we're always watching, and criticising," Lydia chimed in, "Oh…" she looked as though she might start to cry, "Keep in touch with Sarah and Lucy, won't you? They do think the world of you and…well…I know Arthur hasn't been…"

"I will," Emma Jane replied, "I promise. Will you…say hello to Charlotte and Carolyn for me…if you can?"

"Of course," Abigail replied, "We're one big family here."

"Speak for yourself," Lydia grumbled, "That Carolyn thinks she's so much better than…"

"Lydia…" Abigail broke in sharply.

"Sorry," Lydia replied, "Safe journey Emma Jane."

Emma Jane opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't find any words, as she was suddenly hurtled back through time and space, her body floating once again, until she felt herself being dragged down. She closed her eyes and waited for the landing.

SSSS

Hank sat up stiffly from the chair he had been sleeping in and rubbed his neck. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but the sky was growing dark again and fat drops of rain splattered onto the window. He rubbed his eyes roughly with the back of his hands, hoping in some way the action might rub away all the pain he was carrying, all the heavy hurt that was encircling his heart. Doctor O'Neil had checked earlier and said that Emma Jane's condition hadn't improved. He had gazed sympathetically at Hank and the younger man had known what the doctor wanted to say and yet couldn't.

Standing up, he walked over to the window and looked out at the grey sky. The baby was doing slightly better, he had been told. He was looking a little pinker which was a good sign and his breathing was better. But it was still too earlier to say if he was going to pull through. Hank had prayed, so hard, begged for their lives, promised he would do anything if they would only live, but so far, his prayers had gone unanswered…

"Hank…?" the tinniest sound met his ears and he turned around, "Hank…?" Looking over at the bed, he saw Emma Jane's eyes fluttering and he hurried over beside her.

"Emma?" Her face was less flushed and when he touched her face, the fever had all but subsided, "Emma Jane, can ya hear me?"

Emma Jane opened her eyes and saw her husband clearly leaning over her. "Hank…" she reached up and touched his face, "It's you…you're here."

"Course I'm here," he replied, taking her hand in his and kissing it, "Bin here the whole time. God, I'm so glad you're a'right." He put his arms under her body and pulled her up to him, "Thought I was gonna lose ya for a while." He put her back down, "How ya feelin'?"

"I'm…I'm not sure," she replied, and she wasn't. She didn't feel half as good as she had done during her…well, she wasn't quite sure what it had been – a dream? "The baby…" her mind fixated on her son.

"Doin' better so the Doc says," Hank replied, "Don't know fer sure if he's gonna be ok, yet, but he's holdin' on."

"Will," she said.

"Will what?"

"His name. Will." He looked at her quizzically, "He has the will to live…so we should call him Will."

Hank grinned and bent and kissed her gently, "If that's what ya want."

At that moment, the door opened and Doctor O'Neil came in, "Well, well," he said, "Emma Jane, you look better."

"I…feel better Doctor," she replied, "Still a little weak…"

"As to be expected," the doctor replied, "you've come through quite an ordeal over the last few hours. We thought we were going to lose you, but your husband here was determined we weren't." He clapped Hank on the shoulder, "If only we all had his faith."

Emma Jane smiled at her husband, "I suppose you'll be going to church every Sunday from now on."

He leaned in, "Wouldn't go that far." He turned back to the doctor, "Can she see the baby now?"

"I don't see why not," Doctor O'Neil replied, "I'll fetch him." He disappeared back out of the room.

Emma Jane looked at Hank, "I love you."

"I love ya too," he kissed her again, "Can't wait to git ya out of here and back home."

"I hope…Mother hasn't been too hard on you."

"Not at all," he replied, "Fact is, reckon we may have reached an understandin'." He looked at her proudly.

She smiled, "That's good to hear."

Hank's smile faded slightly, "Listen, gotta tell ya that…well, the Doc reckons ya shouldn't have any more children. Reckons that even without the influenza, the birth was hard enough fer ya."

"We have two beautiful children," she replied, "I think that's enough to keep us busy."

He smiled at her, "Reckon I'll have to be careful then. Gonna have to keep that passion fer ya under control."

She was prevented from replying by the return of Doctor O'Neil cradling the baby in his arms. Hank helped her to pull herself up in the bed and rest back against the pillows so she could hold her son. As he was put into her arms, Emma Jane looked down at him, a thousand emotions building inside of her. He was so small and so helpless and, if everything in her dream was to come true, would only live to be sixteen. But, gazing at him, and then back at Hank, she knew she was making the right decision.

"He still needs looking after," Doctor O'Neil said, "he's still very weak and I wouldn't be happy to let you take him back to Colorado just yet. So, if you wouldn't mind staying in New York?"

"Of course not," Emma Jane replied, "but just for a little while. We've got a home waiting for us." She looked at Hank again, "All of us."

**Next chapter coming soon!**


	11. Epilogue

**Thanks for all your comments and reviews. I just want to pick up on a couple of things that were mentioned.**

**Lene, you said about how you felt Lydia and Abigail were trying to manipulate Emma Jane into taking the other option, and you're right. The way I see it, Lydia and Emma Jane never had a good relationship when Lydia was alive. She was spiteful and nasty to her sister and was only interested in money and status, traits that are clearly still there even after her death, although she is perhaps slightly nicer to Emma Jane now. **

**As for Abigail, she doesn't regret marrying Sully, but she does regret the fact that Hannah died and she wishes she could change that. She's trying to make Emma Jane realise that she can save her son by not choosing Hank. Hank's not going to die just because Emma Jane leaves him, but Will could die if she stays with him. Perhaps some people would say that any mother would choose to save her son, but Emma Jane loves Hank and she wants to have it both ways. Whether she gets it, is for the future…**

**New York City**

**January 1869**

"Aunt Emma Jane, look at me!" Lucy twirled in front of her aunt wearing the pretty pink dress she had received for Christmas. Her bright eyes and infectious grin made Emma Jane smile.

"You look beautiful," she replied, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so pretty in a pink dress." She looked back down to where her son was sleeping peacefully in her arms. William Frederick Lawson was now almost a month old and, according to Doctor O'Neil beginning to thrive. The old man had been surprised, confiding in Emma Jane that he had been utterly convinced the baby was going to die.

"It's a miracle," he told her, "I suppose someone up there must be looking after him." Emma Jane had just smiled, knowing that there were lots of people looking after him. She was starting to feel stronger again after the influenza and while she hadn't fully regained her strength, she had been declared fit enough to travel home to Colorado Springs, and take Will with her. It was an exciting thought, returning to the place she called home.

Looking up, she caught Hank's eye from where he was sitting playing with Victoria in the corner. Ever since she had woken from her fever, he had been the model husband, unable to do enough for her, and every time she looked at him, she knew she had made the right choice.

"What time is your train tomorrow?" Mrs Brown asked.

"Eleven o'clock," Emma Jane replied, "We hope to be back in Colorado Springs by Tuesday."

"Are you sure you're feeling up to the journey?" her mother pressed.

"Yes Mother," she replied, touched by her mother's concern, "the train to Denver is very comfortable and while the stagecoach is a little bumpy it's perfectly adequate."

"But the baby…"

"He'll be fine," Hank chimed in, "Got his Ma to look after him, don't he?" He smiled at her and Emma Jane smiled back just as Will started to stir in her arms.

"I think it's time for his feed," she said, standing up. During his first few hours of life, Will had been wet-nursed by Cook's niece, who had also recently had a baby, but Emma Jane had been determined to take over the role herself, and with gentle persuasion, Will had eventually taken to her breast and she had felt the mother-child bond deep inside. The most humorous moment had come the first time she had fed Will successfully with Mrs Brown's shock at the fact that her daughter would allow her husband to be present for such an event.

"Don't you think he should wait outside?" she had said, horrified.

"No, I don't," Emma Jane had replied coolly, and her mother had closed her mouth.

She walked out of the parlour and started to climb the stairs up to her bedroom, gently rocking Will, who was starting to demand his dinner loudly.

"He a'right?" Hank asked, coming up behind her.

"He's fine," she replied, opening the bedroom door and sitting down in the rocking chair. She undid the buttons on the front of her dress and latched her son onto her nipple. Hank crouched beside her, gently stroking his son's head.

"He looks like ya," he said.

"Funny, that's what Mother said," Emma Jane replied, remembering her dream, "She said he had my eyes."

"He does."

"I think he has a look of his father too," she said, meeting his gaze. They both knew they could never tell, but somehow it felt better to say it.

"Reckon he'll grow up to be just like me," Hank replied.

"What, hard living and hard drinking?" Emma Jane joked, "Maybe he'll decide to be dry."

"Not livin' in the saloon," Hank replied. "Gotta partake of the product. Even his Ma's bin know to do that." He nudged her affectionately.

"Yes well," she replied, "Probably the less said about that in this house, the better. Once we're home I can return to my disgraceful ways." She looked back down at her son, "Doctor O'Neil said he might have some problems later in life, because of what he went through."

"Then we'll deal with 'em." Hank looked squarely at her, "We're gonna be a'right ya know."

Emma Jane bent and kissed him, "I know."

"Emma Jane!" Thomas's voice floated up from the staircase, "Supper's ready!"

"Coming!" she called back as Will finished suckling. She handed him to Hank while she re-buttoned her dress and stood up. For a moment, she stood watching the two of them, father and son, and smiled.

"What ya grinnin' at?" Hank asked, catching her look.

"Nothing," she replied, "Just watching the two of you together makes me feel good inside. As if he marks the start of a new chapter in our lives. So many things have happened Hank, and I just want everything to be perfect from now on."

"It will be," he said, handing Will back to her, "I love ya, and I love our children and I promise ya, I'm gonna make everythin' up to ya."

"You don't have to make anything up to me," she told him, "I just want us to move on, and be a family again."

"Yeah…" Hank trailed off, "Reckon if we're startin' over, we shouldn't have any secrets."

"Don't tell me you have a skeleton in your closet that I'm not already aware of," she teased.

"Well…just reckon I oughta tell ya…"

"Emma Jane!" this time it was her mother, "How many times? Supper is ready!"

"Coming!" she called back again, "Come on. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until after we've eaten." She put Will down in his cot and then took her husband's hand as they walked downstairs.

Hank followed her, nervously running over in his mind what he was going to tell her. It had been one of his many deals with God. If he spared Emma Jane and the baby, Hank would tell her all about what had happened between him and Jessica. At first, he had questioned whether there would really be any point. Jessica was long gone and Emma Jane need never know what had gone on. But then he reminded himself that it was secrets and lies that had threatened to destroy their relationship before and it was time they mended their ways. He knew she would be angry and rightly so, but he could only hope that she would at least understand.

They arrived in the dining room just as the others were all taking their seats and Mrs Brown looked at them disapprovingly. Emma Jane just smiled, savvy enough to realise that just because her mother had softened in one respect, didn't necessarily mean she was going to become a new woman overnight.

"Sit beside me, Aunt Emma Jane!" Lucy declared loudly.

"All right," Emma Jane replied, sitting down next to her niece. It was quite a gathering at the table; Mr and Mrs Brown, Hank and Emma Jane, Thomas and Clara and Sarah, Lucy and Victoria.

"Do you have to go home?" Lucy asked.

"Yes I do," Emma Jane replied, "Hank and I have to take Victoria back, and introduce Will to his new home."

"But why can't you stay here?" the young girl's eyes filled with tears.

"Because I just can't," Emma Jane replied, "My home's in Colorado Springs and I have to back there. But you're welcome to come and visit whenever you like," she gave her a quick hug, knowing that the child was missing a mother figure in her life.

"You are going to come back for the wedding though, aren't you?" Clara asked anxiously.

"Of course," Emma Jane replied, "we wouldn't miss it. But you have your trip to Europe to look forward to first. It must be so exciting to think of all the wonderful places you'll be visiting."

"Speaking of visiting," Mrs Brown chimed in, "Frederick, when are you going to invite that new banker of yours round for dinner? I'd really like to meet him at some point."

"New banker?" Emma Jane asked.

"Father hired him a few weeks ago," Thomas informed her, "Nice enough guy. Frank, isn't it?"

"Frank Williams," Mr Brown replied.

Emma Jane started to choke on her soup and began coughing loudly. Hank rubbed her back gently, "Ya ok?"

"Yes…" she wheezed, "fine. It just…went down the wrong way…" she coughed again and took a drink of water, "Frank…Williams?"

"Yes," her father replied, "He's from Washington originally, but he moved to New York in the summer to work for Jackson West. But naturally, he realised that our bank was much more prestigious and he came to work for us. You'd like him," he added, "on a purely plutonic level, of course," he said, glancing quickly at Hank.

"I'm sure I would," Emma Jane replied. She could hardly believe that something in her dream was real. That there really was a Frank Williams out there, a man she didn't know, that she could have been destined to be with. What would it be like if she met him? Would she fall instantly in love with him and want to be with him? Would she up and leave Hank without a second thought?

"Emma Jane?" Thomas's voice broke through her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, coming back to reality.

"I asked you how Mrs Kimble was doing."

"Oh, she's fine," Emma Jane replied, "She's living in another boarding house at the moment with Peter and Kevin, but she's hoping to establish her own again soon. And she said I could stay whenever I wanted."

"Yes, well, look what happened last time you stayed in one of her establishments," Mrs Brown sniffed, "You almost lost your life and those of your children."

"It was an accident, Mother," Emma Jane said, "it was a cigarette that was dropped in the kitchen by one of the residents."

"A disgusting habit," Mrs Brown said, glancing at Hank who merely smiled at her.

The remainder of the evening passed in good humour, the family sharing stories and anecdotes, causing Emma Jane to laugh until her sides hurt. Then, everyone turned in, exhausted after another long day,

Emma Jane closed the bedroom door and started to unbutton her dress. Hank hovered nervously in the corner, trying to find the right way to begin the conversation. Her dress fell to the floor and her underwear followed suit and she climbed into the bed.

"Emma Jane…" Hank began, "We gotta talk."

"Do we have to?" she replied, pulling the covers up to her neck and looking at him seductively, "I was thinking that we could do something _other _than talk." He looked at her questioningly, "What I mean is, this is the first night since Will was born that I feel…ready."

Hank took her meaning instantly and smiled. There was nothing he would like more than to spirit her away on a wave of passion, but there were things that needed said first, "Just think we oughta talk about some stuff, that's all."

"Uh huh," Emma Jane scooted her body closer to his and gently kissed his broad shoulder, trailing kisses along it and up into the crease of his neck.

"Emma…" he tried to protest, but she continued along his throat and up to his earlobe, all the time her hand moving down his bare chest. As her mouth moved across his cheek and met his own, he responded to her hungrily, six months of pent-up passion, foiled at the previous attempt, straining to be given free rein. He flipped her over onto her back and was about to give her what he knew they both wanted, when common sense burst forth again and he pulled away from her. "Can't," he said, breathlessly.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, "You won't hurt me or anything. I'm ready, I told you."

"Ain't that," he replied, pulling himself up into a sitting position, "Ain't worried about that. I mean, I am, but…" he sighed and ran his hand over his face, "It's somethin' else."

Emma Jane sat up too and looked at him, "What?"

"Before ya left…ya know about…me and Jessica…"

"Of course," she replied, "I know why you did it and I forgave you. It's all in the past, Hank, it doesn't matter now," she reached for him again, but he drew back.

"It ain't in the past," he said carefully, "After ya left…it…well it…went on."

Emma Jane blinked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I…went to her…after ya left." He looked sideways at her, "I lay with her."

What he was telling her, finally registered and she looked away, "I see."

"It didn't mean nothin'," he continued quickly, "Weren't like I was in love with her or anythin', Fact is, was thinkin' bout ya the whole time, wishin' it was you I was lyin' with." He sighed, "Then she started gettin' ideas, like she was gonna take yer place. Couldn't have that, so…I kicked her out." He looked at her, "That's the truth, Emma, all of it. Didn't want to start a new life with ya and not tell ya. Wanted to be honest." He paused, "Ya mad at me?"

Emma Jane sighed, "No, no I'm not mad. I'm just…I don't know…sad I suppose."

"Sad?"

She nodded, "That our relationship got to such a point that it would happen. Until all of this, I always thought we were unshakable, that nothing would ever come between us. And yet something did and we parted and…" she sighed again, "I don't blame you for things that happened back then, Hank. I understand why you did what you did and I could never hold it against you."

"Yer serious?"

"Yes," she smiled gently, "You've taken me back, taken on a child that you don't even know is yours…how could I hold a little indiscretion like that against you? It wouldn't be fair." She kissed his shoulder again, "This is our new start. Whatever happened before doesn't matter and that includes Jessica." She paused, "But she _is _gone?"

He nodded, "Ain't gonna come back neither."

"Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?" She moved closer to him again, "and you have absolutely no excuse not to ravish me right here in this bed."

Hank grinned at her, "Ain't gonna say no to that."

SSSS

The following morning, Emma Jane woke as the first pale light was beginning to shine on the world. She lay for a while just looking at the ceiling, thinking about how she was going home, back to the place she loved, with the people she loved. Turning to her right, she gazed at Hank lying sleeping beside her, an overwhelming feeling of love washing over her. He had been so gentle with her the night before, touching and teasing, reminding her just what their love had been all about before finally giving in and creating within her such sweet pleasure that she had clung to him and never wanted to let go. Then she had lain in his arms, feeling his heat beating against her back and slept peacefully, or rather for the few unbroken hours her son allowed her, safe in the knowledge that she was with the person she loved most.

At that moment, Hank stirred and opened his eyes, smiling as he caught her looking at him, "Mornin'."

"Good morning," she replied, reaching over to kiss him.

"How long ya bin awake?"

"A while. I was just thinking about how wonderful it will be to be back home." She sighed, "I never thought I would have admitted to missing the saloon."

He laughed softly, "Reckon ya couldn't be more of a country girl if ya'd bin born there."

"You think so? You don't still see me as some posh city girl who thinks she's better than everybody else?" Emma Jane teased.

"Ya weren't ever like that," he defended her, "Ya were just…different."

"Yes, well I'm looking forward to being 'just different' again, so unless you plan on us missing our train, I suggest we get up." She threw back the bedclothes and got out of bed, moving over to Will's cot where he lay contentedly looking up at her, "You must be getting hungry again little man," she cooed, picking him up, "time you had your breakfast."

While Emma Jane fed their son, Hank double-checked that they had packed everything they needed to take home with them. In a strange way, he would be sorry to leave New York. Being in the city and living in the Browns' house had given him a taste of what he could never give his own children. He could never give them the social circle, the money, the dresses, but Emma Jane could, and he knew it was tantamount to her love for him that she didn't want to stay.

Breakfast was a rather sombre affair. Neither Mr or Mrs Brown, or Thomas, wanted Emma Jane to leave. Mrs Brown had tried valiantly the night before to drop subtle hints that might convince her daughter to stay, but to no avail. Emma Jane had made up her mind and no-one was going to change it.

"The house won't be the same without you, Emma," Thomas said, "Without all of you," he added, "It'll be quiet again, for one thing."

"Imagine how pleased you'll be to have peace," Emma Jane replied.

"You _are _welcome to stay, Emma Jane," her father said, "you both are."

"Thank you Father, but I've been here long enough. It's time I went home," Emma Jane took Hank's hand, "We've already missed out on so much time together, and I don't want to miss out on any more."

"Well, if you're sure…" Mrs Brown said.

"We are, aren't we?"

Hank nodded, "Sure are. Can't wait to git her back to town."

"I'm sure you can't," Mrs Brown said, not wanting to dwell on the thought too much.

SSSS

The train station was busy, full of people milling around both leaving and returning from journeys, greeting loved ones and saying goodbye. Emma Jane felt as though there were a multitude of emotions running through her. She was looking forward to going home to Colorado Springs, yet she was sad to be leaving New York and her family behind. It had almost begun to feel like home again, despite everything bad that had happened.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Mrs Brown asked her, "Packages can get lost between here and Colorado you know."

"I know, Mother," Emma Jane replied, "We have everything." She rocked Will in her arms as he started to fuss, "I think we should maybe get on board and get him settled." Hank nodded and lifted Victoria in through the train door, before taking Will from his mother and following suit. "Thank you for letting me stay," Emma Jane turned to her father and hugged him, "thank you for everything."

"Oh, we didn't do much," Mr Brown replied good-naturedly, "You're our daughter, and you're welcome to stay any time."

"And you," she turned to Thomas, "You be nice to Clara."

"Aren't I always?" he responded with mock hurt as he hugged her, "We'll see you all for the wedding."

"Absolutely," she turned to her mother, "Good bye Mother."

Mrs Brown stepped forward and took her daughter stiffly in her arms, "Good bye Emma Jane. Have a safe journey home."

"Thank you," she replied, tears forming in her eyes, "I will."

"Oh, be off with you," Mrs Brown waved her away, "Your husband is waiting for you."

Emma Jane climbed on board the train just as the whistle blew and she leaned out the window as it pulled away from the platform, waving at the family she was leaving behind until they were but dots on the horizon. Then she closed the window and walked down the corridor to the compartment where Hank was waiting with the children.

"Ya a'right?" he asked, looking up as she came in.

"Yes," she replied honestly, "Yes, I really am."

**Colorado Springs**

"Aw Doctor Mike, it's nothin'!" Loren protested loudly, "Just a bit of pain, that's all."

"It looks like gout to me, Loren," Michaela replied, "You could come over to the clinic right now and let me take a proper look."

"I got customers to serve," he replied, "and there's the stage. There might be people on it need me."

Michaela thought this very unlikely, "All right, but promise you will come and see me later."

"Aw, all right, if it'll make ya happy."

"It will." She turned as the stagecoach pulled up outside Loren's store and the door opened. Hank climbed out first, holding Victoria and then he held out his hand to help someone else out, someone holding a baby, Emma Jane.

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied as her husband helped her down. She glanced around happily, "Home sweet home."

"Emma Jane!" Michaela exclaimed hurrying over.

"Michaela," Emma Jane hugged her.

"It's wonderful to see you! And this…?" she indicated the baby.

"This is my son, Will," Emma Jane replied, "Well…our son Will." She glanced at Hank.

"He's beautiful," Michaela replied, "but I don't understand…"

"It's a long story," Emma Jane replied, "I'll tell you another time." She looked over at the saloon, "I'm just glad to be home."

"C'mon," Hank put his hand on her back, "let's git ya and the baby inside." He nodded to Michaela and then propelled Emma Jane towards the saloon door.

"I hate to think how much money we've lost over the last month," she said as he opened the door and let her go in. She looked around at the familiar surroundings, "It'll take a while for business to get back to what it was."

At that moment, however, Jake appeared at the door, "Ya open for business?" he asked.

Hank grinned, "Yup. Whisky?"

"What else?" Jake replied, setting his hat down on the bar. As Hank poured the drink for him, more and more men started to come in.

"What's that ya were sayin'?" Hank said to her.

"I take it back," she smiled, "I take it all back." She watched as he spoke to the customers, traded banter with them and occasionally grinned in her direction. 'I love you,' she thought to herself, 'I love you so much.' Then she turned and, holding Will in the crook of one arm, and Victoria's hand, she took her children upstairs where the girls were waiting to welcome her back.

"We missed ya," Mandy said, "But was it nice being back home?"

"This is home, Mandy," Emma Jane replied, "It always has and it always will be. This is home."

THE END

**Well, I reckon I have one more story in me about Hank and Emma Jane set…you've guessed it…sixteen years from now and I can give you the synopsis now…**

**Tensions run high when sickly troublemaker Will Lawson begins to show romantic interest in Katie Sully. Meanwhile as Emma Jane's attacker is finally brought to justice, Hank begins to doubt his son's parentage.**

**Hopefully coming soon!**


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